The Long Arm of Fate
by 2bones
Summary: AU after DWTB.  Aeryn and her adult son struggle alongside the rest of the Sebacean race against extinction at the hands of the Scarrans.  Aid comes from an unlikely ally.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

'_Just make a frelling wormhole and go home.'_

"If only," John Crichton mouthed against the frosted glass of the module's cockpit, his cheek pressed against the pane as he teetered on the edge of consciousness. Everyone had left. Aeryn to escape him, and the rest of the crew to pick up the pieces of the lives from which they had long been estranged. And Moya, over twenty hours passed, had disappeared unwillingly into a wormhole. Now, alone, he would die here in his module amongst a field of debris, drifting forever in a sacred Leviathan 'burial ground'.

Funny how the debris stayed together. Magnetism maybe? Or some property of the luminescent gas enveloping the field? Hell, they'd dropped Talyn's remains on the fly and his bits and pieces just stuck there like crumbs in molasses, despite their momentum. Damn. He would miss physics – and home. And he would miss her.

The woman that left him here to die.

'_Make a frelling wormhole and go home.'_

He choked suddenly on the dryness in his throat. When he recovered, his labored breathing rasped louder than ever. No more air. It's over. He couldn't even close his mouth.

_God damn you, Aeryn._

And then the lights came, unseen by his unconscious eyes.

------------------------------------------------------------

The only light in the room came from a utility lamp positioned over a crude, wooden table. Aeryn Sun sat with her back straight, laying out the various pieces of her stripped pulse pistol in the order of disassembly. Across from her, she watched as a young man filed the ragged metal edge of a torn laser sight's mount. His hands were strong but nimble, working carefully to reshape the twisted alloy with pliers and a focal heat-press. From beneath his shaggy black hair, he snatched a quick glance at her, his blue eyes and pale, chiseled features giving his countenance a certain severity.

"You need the oil?" he asked.

"If you're not using it."

The young man grabbed a canister from the floor and slid it across the table. As the tip of his sleeve traveled up past his wrist, Aeryn caught a quick glance at the pink, variegated burn scars covering his forearm. She frowned at the remembrance of his torture.

"You should wash your face first," he said.

"Why?"

The young man pulled a thin sheet of reflective aluminum from a pack on the back of his chair and held it up before her. A dark smudge covered her forehead and cheek, blending into her raven hair, streaked sparsely with strands of gray. Whether from a distortion in the reflection or a truth of form, the gaunt woman looking back seemed drained of all vibrancy.

"A simple 'because you're dirty' would've been enough, son," she said with a twisted grin.

He shrugged, dropping the aluminum sheet in front of her. "You'll need it to bridge the battery coil anyway."

She ripped a strip from the sheet's edge, looking over the worn pieces of her pistol. Fragments and antiquated materials. That's all they had left to fight the Scarrans. What she wouldn't give for a good repeater cannon and a crate of ammo.

A quick knock at the door had them both on their feet. Immediately, they draped themselves in their dingy gray cloaks; hoods pulled forward over their faces.

"Water delivery," came a gruff voice from the other side.

"Leave it at the door," Aeryn answered in perfect Nebari.

She moved to the door and listened to the footsteps of the deliverer as he walked away, mumbling something about Nebari paranoia. Once assured of his departure, she opened the door and dragged a crude, dented metal drum into the room. The sound of sloshing water rang from within the container.

"Jack, help me lift this to the table," she said.

Once the drum was hefted to the tabletop, they filled various containers from the drum's spigot, drinking greedily from their canteens throughout the task. Almost a full day had passed without water, the price of being at the mercy of a black market exchange.

"We've gotta get off this planet," Jack said, wiping a sleeve across his mouth.

"There's nothing we can do as long as that Dreadnaught's in orbit. I'm not even sure we should make our way back to the Prowler once they're gone."

Jack shook his head. "It's safe. I covered it completely in the junkyard, and there's no way they'll detect the jamming beacon."

Another one of his amazing improvisations. Had her son been reared as a Peacekeeper, he would have been chief among the techs in no time. But in that culture, his brilliance would not have been appreciated. Amongst his father's people, however, he would have been glorious.

Jack sat back in his chair with a satisfied sigh, tall and lean, his thirst sated and immediate needs met. Throughout her twenty-plus cycles of motherhood, Aeryn, often to her continued surprise, found this to be life's ultimate satisfaction – providing for the needs of her child, even if it was a rusty can of water. And even though the man before her did just as much to watch [iher[/i back now, she still felt a mother's need to see him content.

But it wasn't always simple. Sometimes, he would look at her with that easy smile and blue-eyed gaze, the way he was doing now, and she would see someone else. Then an old pain would whisper in her heart, and in her mind she would repeat a phrase of comfort to move on.

_The best of both of us._

She took a deep breath and drank again.

Jack folded his arms. "I'll wager there's not a single shower on this dust ball."

"Hygiene doesn't appear to be a priority here."

Jack snatched the material of his shirt and lifted it to his wrinkled nose. "Well, we're fitting right in then."

Grinning, Aeryn nodded her agreement just as a beeping sound came from Jack's pack.

"The chatter's picking up," Jack said, reaching for a small, rectangular device. He placed it on the table and tweaked several tiny knobs until a clear voice came through. It was a Scarran dialect, presumably an incoming transmission to the orbiting Dreadnaught.

'_The anomaly is stable. Rendezvous at sector Zamga, layer 42, cross 60 by 89.'_

The voice was cold and grating, accented by those characteristic hisses that chilled her spine. An unsettling feeling passed through her – a sense that, just by listening to the transmission, she was inviting a predator's attention from a darkened perimeter.

Jack looked over with a quizzical expression, remaining silent through the transmission.

"At least they're leaving," Aeryn said.

"Where could those coordinates be?"

"Far away, I hope." She stood from the table and quickly snapped her pistol back together. "They're changing their sector designations constantly now. I'm sure it has something to do with this 'anomaly' they've been chasing."

"It's gotta be a wormhole," Jack said, holding her eyes for a moment.

It was a loaded statement. She had kept nothing from him regarding his parentage and related history. But wormholes were not a topic of light discussion. Yet, in this case, she felt the same inclination.

"It could be anything, son," she said. "Start scanning to confirm their departure. I'll get everything packed."

Assured that the Dreadnaught had left the system, Aeryn and Jack moved through the dusty streets of the wind-eroded town under the cover of a light sandstorm. Each wore their hooded cloaks with their faces covered up to the eyes by a dark, gauzy material. The surface temperatures were nearly intolerable for Sebaceans, and it wasn't long before Jack took Aeryn's pack and threw it over his back, encouraging her to move faster with a gentle hand.

"Do you need to cool off?" he yelled over the wind.

"No," she answered, feeling an acute dizziness setting in. "Well, maybe."

They ducked into an alley, and she downed an entire canteen of water. Beneath his hood, Aeryn saw the sweat beading profusely above his brow, but his eyes were steady, alert. Another blessing from his father.

"As soon as we pass this next gate, we can drop these cloaks," he said, turning back to scan the alley's entrance. "That should help with the heat."

"No," Aeryn answered. "If anyone notices we're Sebacean..."

"It's only half-a-metra to the junk heap. By the time word finds the authorities..."

Aeryn shook her head. "There may be bounty hunters, and the last thing we need is a shadow. We stay covered. Let's go."

They dashed off again, finally reaching the junkyard. Within a quarter-arn, they had the Prowler uncovered and were inside the cockpit. The environmental cooling system was an instant relief, blowing crisp air over her flushed face. Behind her, Jack programmed the navigation system for their rendezvous with the Leviathan fleet.

"Three candidate locations for this time frame," Jack said.

"Let's hope they're at the first one," she replied as she flew them through the dingy stratosphere and into the welcome sterility of cold, dark space.

Several arns later, Aeryn slowed the Prowler, bringing it to a halt at the rendezvous point. It wasn't long before white and blue sparkles fizzled into the shape of Moya, flanked microts later by two Leviathan gunships; red and black hulks with scarred hulls, each out-massing Moya by a third.

"Veleon's healing nicely," Jack observed.

Aeryn looked at the deep gash etched roughly into the length of the left gunship's belly. It had been several weekens since the Leviathan had sheered off a Dreadnaught cannon, enabling the Leviathan fleet to starburst to safety.

"That's the power of a mother's love," Aeryn said, smiling at the thought of Moya's dedication to her two offspring, always willing to deplete her own resources to ensure their maintenance and healing.

"Officer Sun," Pilot's voice chimed in on over the coms. "We are pleased to find you on our first starburst."

"Feelings mutual, Pilot. Moya is beautiful as always, as are Veleon and Denzil."

A cacophonous series of clicks and tones rang out from the com speakers.

Jack laughed. "One at a time, guys."

"We apologize, Jack," Pilot said. "Veleon and Denzil have been eager to have you on board again. There's some...contention...as to which one will have you stay with them first."

"All things being equal, Pilot, it would be an impossible choice. But Veleon's still healing. I'll be staying with him for a weeken or so to monitor the situation."

Veleon's runner lights burst with a quick flash.

"He's not coming to play tardek, Veleon," Aeryn said, aligning her Prowler with Moya's hangar bay. "You have to let him work."

"Moya will see to it, Officer Sun," Pilot replied. "I trust the mission was successful?"

"Yes, Pilot. We were able to purchase over thirty derillium shards."

"Purity verified," Jack added.

"Thank-you both," Pilot replied, relief apparent in his tone. "We _must_ get this virus under control. Almost all of the young Leviathans are showing symptoms."

"Anything more than the surface lesions?" Aeryn asked.

"No, but the discomfort has become a significant distraction for the entire fleet," Pilot answered. "The young ones are constantly rubbing their hulls against the adults."

Their laughter was immediate, filling the cockpit. As if the playful youngsters weren't pests enough already.

"If there's an itch," Jack replied smartly, "it's gotta be scratched."

"I'm afraid the crews of the abraded ships don't share your humor, Jack," Pilot said. "They've resorted to bolting everything down, particularly during mealtimes."

"I guess soup's out of the question, then," Jack replied.

Aeryn landed the prowler in the hangar bay and powered the ship down.

"We're settled in, Pilot. Starburst at your convenience."

The rattle and hum of starburst was always a bit unsettling. It was a transient feeling of dissociation, as though one's conscious essence were listing slightly from the body's axis. The headaches that often followed were the kind that came from strained vision, not debilitating but a distraction nonetheless.

As Aeryn and Jack climbed down from the cockpit, other Sebaceans were already tending to the post-flight maintenance of the Prowler. With a finite number of fighters and no means of replacing them, every effort was made to keep them in working order. They exited the bay through a corridor as Pilot's voiced announced over the coms, "attention all crew, we have rejoined the fleet."

Aeryn recalled how Pilot's outward demeanor had taken on a certain detached formality once Moya's crew grew from less than a dozen to just over five-hundred. No longer did he know the names of all on board. He hadn't even met each one in person. Pilot's den was now a restricted area open only to a few representative Sebaceans, two of which were herself and Jack. So much had changed since the early cycles.

As they approached Command, two unarmed Sebaceans stood watch outside the door, each nodding curtly as Aeryn and Jack passed.

"Jenna...Hartley," Aeryn said as she passed them, catching their eyes with quick glances.

"Aeryn," each replied.

Once in Command, Aeryn looked over the fleet through the display. Over three-hundred Leviathans were moving forward in a loose file, the caravan wider at the rear and tapering down towards the front. Amongst the adults and adolescents were smaller, golden nuggets, weaving quickly through the caravan, chasing one another and darting in and out of the formation. And flanking the caravan were roughly thirty gunships, a few of them twice the size of Moya, strategically placed along the line. They exhibited little patience with the outward-drifting young ones, often butting into the little ones to force them back into the file.

All stations were manned by other Sebaceans, some in uniforms of either Peacekeeper-issue or various other military affiliations associated with the break-away colonies. Others, however, wore civilian clothing of no particular background. Aeryn looked down at the toes of her dusty boots, sticking out from under her ragged cloak. One of the navigators close by looked sidelong in her direction, grimacing slightly with a wrinkled nose.

Aeryn's quick sneer had the woman's eyes back on the panel, focusing on her task.

"Officer Sun," came a man's voice from the Command speakers.

Aeryn turned casually to the clamshell, careful not to show any undo respect to her former title. The man addressing her was neatly kept with close-cropped hair and a little gray at the temples. But the marks of war were evident on his face, the rough scars of a talon swipe traversing the area where an eye once was. The patch did little to cover the disfigurement.

"Braca," she answered. "You must really be anxious to get this antidote out. My engines are still hot."

"Getting these rashes under control would be nice," he answered, the image on the viewer shaking suddenly as he corrected his balance. "But there's a more pressing matter. I think we should meet privately."

Aeryn sighed. "I don't suppose it could wait for a shower first."

Braca shook his head. "I think you'll understand the urgency when you arrive. We'll arrange quarters for you here on Galen. We need to make some decisions before the sleep cycle."

"All right. I'll be there within the arn."

Aeryn turned to Jack. "Take the derillium to the lab, then get to Veleon. I'll join you there for first meal tomorrow."

Jack hesitated for a moment, his eyes going back and forth between her and the clamshell.

"Tomorrow, son."

He nodded, but his eyes still sought answers as he turned for the door.

Aeryn was quick to pack a change of clothes and get on a transport pod. Braca wasn't one to waste words. If he said something was urgent, then it would be so by her estimation as well. Several possibilities ran through her mind. Were the Scarrans somehow tracking the starburst activity of the caravan? Or, had Braca found another pocket of Sebaceans hiding out somewhere? The latter seemed highly unlikely. Three cycles had passed since she had seen any of her own kind outside of the fleet. The Scarran Genocide Directive had seen to that.

Aeryn looked over the fleet during her transit to Galen, sitting alone in the passenger section of the pod. One of the biggest tragedies of the Scarran expansion had been the fate of the Leviathans. Hunted to near extinction for sport, this band represented the only known survivors of the peaceful space-borne species. Many were scarred and disfigured. A young one in particular pained her heart. Blasted in the tail a cycle ago by a frag cannon, she no longer had a trident claw. The only way for her to starburst was to ride within her mother's burst perimeter. This was a temporary fix, however, as she would soon become too large to carry and would have to be abandoned. The fleet would lose two Leviathans on that solar day. No mother would leave her child behind.

The horror of the recent cycles was apparent in the general Leviathan psyche. No longer were the gunship hybrids of Peacekeeper-design shunned. Rather, at the behest of the Leviathans' urgings and with the help of a few surviving Peacekeeper scientists, each of the females in the fleet had attempted to conceive their own gunships. Although success was marginal, they had succeeded in creating a fair number, and their contribution to the survival of the fleet could not be overstated.

So much had changed in a relatively short time. Aeryn remembered a conversation she had long ago about a primitive world and its planet-bound people whom, in roughly one-hundred cycles, went from riding beasts to walking on their moon; an unheard of thing based on her knowledge of other sentient cultures. It seemed improbable at the time, and she had dismissed it as prideful exaggeration. But the possibility of 'accelerating' through history seemed more plausible now. Certainly her people were experiencing a remarkably fast rate of change, albeit in a poor direction.

Aeryn leaned her head against the window, eyeing the weary reflection cast next to her face. It seemed she would never again know anything other than danger at her back and uncertainty ahead. She smiled bleakly to herself.

"We're still on the run, John."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Aeryn was always amazed at the enormity of Galen, the alpha Leviathan of the fleet. His corridors allowed a wide berth for the busy foot-traffic and wheeled machinery, the largest of which could make complete U-turns when not impeded by pedestrians. Overhead, his golden ribs vaulted high, joining at a pinnacle of over three stories. There were even second-tier terraces along many of the corridors, near doubling the travel capacity along his lengths.

Before entering Command, she felt a light tug on her sleeve. Turning around, she saw a familiar, handsome face with dark eyes grinning lazily at her. She always appreciated the warmth in his expression.

"Back so soon?" he asked.

"Velorek," she answered, greeting him with a slight smile.

He pulled her into an embrace, whispering into her ear. "I'm glad your back."

She hugged him tentatively, acutely aware of her neglected hygiene. "Sorry. I'm filthy."

"Yeah, I wasn't gonna say anything, but..."

Aeryn pushed him back, sneering at his laughter. "You can get back to your business then, you frellnik!"

"Yes, chasing young Leviathans with an oversized hypodermic needle. What a way to pass the time."

She chuckled at the image. "Good luck with that."

"Yeah, you couldn't have waited another weeken or so to bring that derillium back?"

Aeryn leaned against the wall, folding her arms. "I thought you were glad to see me."

He grinned wryly, snatching furtive glances at the passers-by before settling his eyes on her. "You know I'm always glad to see _you_, Aeryn," he said quietly, putting his hand on the wall behind her.

As he leaned in for a kiss, she dodged beneath his arm and walked backwards into Command.

"Then cook me something nice, tonight – something hot. I've had nothing but food cubes for two weekens."

The doors closed between them, leaving her with the image of his wry grin and shaking head.

The Command center on Galen was a busy place. In addition to managing the Leviathan's enormous array of systems, all of the fleet's actions were coordinated here. Communications, both in- and out-going, were constant. And unlike many of the other Leviathans, numerous computers had been hybridized into Galen's biosystems to facilitate the coordination of all caravan activity.

Braca looked up from the cartography display, acknowledging Aeryn with a quick nod before concluding his business with the navigator. He had been the obvious choice for fleet commander, highly skilled in interstellar travel as well as battle tactics. But it was his propensity for survival that made him irreplaceable. A consummate strategist, Braca had outwitted their Scarran pursuers more times than she could count, drawing on what seemed to be an endless cache of unorthodox tactics. Often though, over drinks, he would confide in her and a few other trusted comrades, admitting the improvisational nature underlying actions that were largely regarded as calculated, well-planned brilliance.

"By the skin of my eema," he was fond of saying.

Braca moved swiftly across Command, gesturing for Aeryn to follow him into a side chamber. There was a large table in the middle of the room with several laminates scattered across its surface. And on the wall, a view screen displayed a paused image.

It was a wormhole, larger than any she had ever seen, captured in the still. And through it, she saw a crescent sliver of a blue and white planetary body, the rest of its orb occluded by the wall of the wormhole. Aeryn advanced quickly to the screen, her eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Braca...what is this?"

"We intercepted this visual transmission from a Nebari reconnaissance vessel just a few arns before you arrived. They were cloaked while this footage was taken."

"It's enormous. You could fit an entire battle group through there. Do you know the planet on the other side?"

Braca pulled a chair from the table. "Aeryn, please sit down."

There was a reticence in his expression that unnerved her. He nodded toward the chair again, avoiding her eyes with an oblique look.

"Braca," she said, a warning in her tone.

He sighed, catching her with a quick glance. There was a wariness in his face as he clicked a device on the table, activating the video stream. The mouth of the wormhole twisted and writhed, its walls occluding the view of the other side until it seemed to center on its axis with a balanced twirl. Then she saw the planet.

Aeryn raised her fingertips to the screen, tracing the familiar geography along the coastlines, known to her from the countless sketches she had seen. Her heart thumped at the inner walls of her chest, her vision hazing with the moisture gathering in her eyes. It was beautiful, just as he'd described so many times. Blue and vibrant. And for just a moment, she felt him there with her again – his voice right beside her.

'_That's Florida...and you can't see Texas, but trust me it's big. And Mexico...watch out, there's lots of tequila and probably a warrant or two out for my arrest._'

The tears ran warm down her cheeks, their saltiness tasted in her smile. Her breath caught in a hitch as she rubbed her fingertips over the cool glass, her lips whispering a single utterance.

"John."

Then, between her fingers, she saw dozens of specks moving quickly into the wormhole, small ships of some kind. She strained to see identifying details, but couldn't discriminate anything. But what she saw next was unmistakable – three Dreadnaughts moving into the wormhole, single-file. She threw both hands against the screen, thrusting her face within two denches of its surface.

"No!" she screamed. "No...No...No!"

She cried out for the fate of the little planet, defenseless and unwary. This couldn't be happening. It was the only place in the whole frelling universe that gave her hope, knowing that something peaceful was still out there, untouched by the horrors of her world.

When she turned, Braca was no longer in the room, and the door to Command was closed. She stumbled to the table, catching herself on a chair's back. Frelling Scarrans! It would never be enough. They had to kill everything. Every-frelling-thing! She dug her fingers into the fabric of the chair, and with a raging scream, hefted it up and slammed it into the view screen, shattering the panel with a violent spray of glass.

Stumbling to the corner of the room, she collapsed to the floor and leaned into the walls, her shoulders slumping and head listing to the side. It suddenly became clear to her that an implicit dream, long held deep within her, had just died; a dream that she would find a home for herself and Jack on Earth one day – that he could actually have the life that John had always sought to regain, free from all this misery. It had been the one thing that gave her hope. Now there was nothing.

Right this microt, their cities were burning, their children were running from the slaughter, and their whole sense of tomorrow was forever being erased.

Aeryn stared across the room, her eyes wide but seeing nothing. It was too much. Just too frelling much.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aeryn had little sense of how much time had passed in the dimly lit room. She hadn't moved from the corner, the numbness of her anguish covering her like a lead blanket. She heard a door open and the sound of footsteps approach slowly.

"Aeryn," came a gentle voice, someone kneeling beside her. There was a touch on her arm. "Aeryn." A warm hand pushed the hair from her face.

"Mom," he whispered.

She looked into his eyes, blue and crystal clear, unabashedly showing all the love for her that resided within them. She touched his face with a trembling hand, her brow gathering tightly between her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she cried.

Jack nodded, lowering her hand from his face as he plopped down next to her. He snaked his arm around her and pulled her close. Aeryn listened to the changes in his breathing, steady at first, then labored with sniffles that betrayed his emotions. The sound of his grief fomented her own. For a quarter-arn, they cried there together, sharing their anguish at the loss of a private, precious thing that had been shared between them for so long.

"Is there nothing we can do?" Jack finally asked.

Aeryn shook her head. "Nothing other than stand and die with them." If it weren't for Jack, she would be in her Prowler right now.

"What about a rescue? Can we save some of them? Bring them with us?"

Aeryn looked up, her sight clearing with the drying of her tears. She hadn't thought of that.

"We'd have to get to the surface," she replied. "They've got no way of getting to us."

"A Leviathan could do it," Jack noted, scratching his chin. "We could make a dash for the ocean and submerge for an underwater rendezvous. We'd be fairly shielded from orbital fire by the water."

"We should take a gunship," Aeryn added. "They're more resilient to cannon fire and pressure changes."

Jack stood up, pacing the floor with thoughts flashing across his face.

"Then maybe an underwater starburst to escape?" Aeryn inquired.

Jack shook his head. "There'd be too much water in the burst perimeter. A Leviathan can't transport that much weight."

"In the atmosphere then," she said. "Just as we emerge from the water."

A man cleared his throat at the room's entrance. Aeryn turned to see Braca leaning against the door frame, his hands resting in the pockets of his pants.

Wiping a sleeve across her face, she pushed herself up against the wall and stepped into the center of the room, the glass of the display crunching beneath her feet.

"Just so you know," Braca said, "I had already arranged to replace pretty much everything in this room before you arrived."

"I'm sorry, Braca," she replied, sniffling to clear her head. "I know this gets old."

He dismissed it with a shrug. "I think I may have overheard some of your planning."

"And?" she asked, urging him to finish his query.

"And...I understand your reasoning."

"But?"

He looked to the side, clearly selecting his words. "You know we can't put the fleet at risk for that."

"There wouldn't be any risk to the fleet," Aeryn snapped. "Just one gunship -- enough to rescue maybe two or three hundred people."

The respectful tentativeness in his tone was gone. "To what purpose, Aeryn?"

She stared back for a moment, her mouth agape at his display of obtuseness. "To save their race, Braca."

"And what about all the other primitive cultures dying away under Scarran rule? What makes them any less deserving of our help than the humans?"

Jack took a few steps towards him, eyes steeled with a furrowed brow. "How can you ask her that?"

Braca checked him with a warning hand. "Back up, Jack." He stepped into the room and stood before Aeryn. "I want you to really think about what you're asking – about the possible cost, and how it weighs against the potential gains for the fleet at large, not just for you two."

Aeryn swallowed, wiping her wetted lip as she stared into Braca's face. Suddenly, she felt suffocated by his pragmatism.

She pushed past him, walking through Command with her eyes caged forward. As she exited into the outer corridor, she heard Braca calling to her in pursuit.

"You're talking about going into a wormhole, Aeryn – zipping past three Dreadnaughts and an entire battle contingent -- in plain sight mind you -- and then stealing their quarry and taking off again. You don't even know if the wormhole would be there for you when you came back. And all of this assumes you can navigate one of these things, which, I'm not convinced you can."

She pushed through the crowded corridor, fists balled at her side. Braca's hand caught her arm and spun her around.

"I need to know one thing, though," he asked. "And I'm sorry I have to ask you this, but I do." He took a deep breath, his single eye wide in its appeal. "Will they find something there? Anything...about wormholes? Something he may have done that we never knew about, like sending information home?"

She yanked her arm from his grip. "Frell you!" she yelled into his face, rage watering in her eyes. "Why don't you check your frelling records you Peacekeeper drannit! You had access to everything in his frelling head!" Her screaming had the attention of everyone in the corridor.

There was no fight in his expression. He looked down, nodding his resignation. "For that, I am sorry, Aeryn. I hope some part of you can believe that. But it doesn't change the fact that..."

She turned with a growling sneer and marched towards the hangar bay.

"Aeryn, if they acquire that technology, they can jump in on us anytime, anywhere."

His words were noise in her ears. Fortunately, he wasn't following this time.

By the time she reached the hangar bay, a pilot had already been informed she was coming and had a transport pod ready for departure. It was an empty courtesy from Braca as far as she was concerned, but she was still thankful to have no delays. She needed to find some comfort somewhere, and there was only one friend who could identify with what she was feeling.

She and Jack boarded the transport pod and made the trip back to Moya, silent mostly, each sinking inward to confront the darkness of what they had just learned.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A shower had done much to restore her. She walked into Pilot's den, her hair still damp and hanging loosely over her shoulders. As she crossed the walkway, Pilot looked up from his tasks, nodding while his appendages danced over the surrounding panels.

"Hello, Officer Sun."

"Pilot," she greeted him, sitting on the floor at the base of the console.

"We just received a transmission from Galen. Moya and I are very saddened by the news. I know how this must affect you."

Aeryn smiled bleakly, bringing her knees to her chest and bundling herself together with her arms. "Thank-you, Pilot. That's why I'm here."

"Is there anything we can do to help...other than offer you our company, of course?"

"Nothing within reason, I'm afraid." She took a deep breath and looked into the darkened surround of the expansive chamber.

Pilot didn't comment on that statement. Several microts passed with nothing but the sound of claws clicking across hard surfaces.

"You should know that Braca sent two gunships to reconnoiter the area of the wormhole," Pilot said.

"I'm sure he's looking to see if there's any evidence of wormhole manipulation by the Scarrans."

"He commed me earlier and informed me of your altercation."

Aeryn grinned, chuckling lightly at the recall of her temperamental display. "Yeah, I put on quite a show over there." She shook her head. "It was a desperate plan – and foolish, I suppose."

"Veleon and Denzil immediately volunteered when they heard of it."

"Really?" she asked, turning her head upward.

"But Moya forbade it. You should know that I discouraged it as well."

Aeryn looked back down, nodding. "As you should have. Sometimes I forget that every gunship has a mother."

She felt a soft touch on her head as Pilot's claw lowered to rest against her, cradling into her side. "But we both feel terribly for the loss this represents for you...and Jack."

She turned her face into his claw, rubbing her cheek against the cool surface. The tears were coming freely again. Swallowing, she struggled to steady her breathing. Her utterance was small, her voice almost child-like.

"What would he have done, Pilot?"

There was a brief pause before his response. "Something brash – completely foolhardy. Of course, there would have been one of those horrible plans, and he would have been tickled at his own misperceived brilliance."

Aeryn laughed aloud, smiling brightly through her tears.

Pilot made that gurgling sound, the one she equated with laughter. "And it probably would have worked."

She nodded, stroking her palm across his claw. "He called it 'Irish luck'."

"There was a charm of good fortune surrounding Commander Crichton, despite all his travesties."

Her eyes closed at the sound of his name. She noticed how hard the console was at her back, and thought about John sitting for arns in this position, holding her against him in this very place so many times while they would talk until their voices were hoarse. She had never said so much to anyone as she had to him. Meaningless dribble or heart-felt secrets, he had a way of making her, the silent one, babble for arns.

"I still miss him, Pilot."

"We know. He could never be replaced."

The words stabbed at her heart, painful in their inaccuracy. For a brief time, there were two – and then there was one, a second chance. But because of her obstinacy and selfish detachment, now there were none. When she had finally come around to her senses and tried to find him, the news of what had happened nearly destroyed her – and she would have gone to join him had it not been for the life growing inside her. Deep in her mind, in the chamber of her darkest secrets, she could still see the images of constant tears, a hand on her belly and a gun in her mouth.

"It's not your fault, Aeryn," Pilot said quietly, filling the silence with his words.

How many times had they had this conversation in those early cycles? Pilot had been her strength – with a swell in her belly or a babe in her arms, he was always there to help her see the reasons for living.

"I love you, Pilot," she whispered.

"And we love you, Aeryn."

She rubbed her hand against the floor, feeling Moya's vibrations in her palm.

After a short time of shared silence, Pilot retracted his claw.

"Would you like to stay with us through the sleep cycle?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes. I would like that very much."

He reached behind the console and pulled a folded cot out, one he kept around for just these times. He lowered it to the floor and set it up beside her. Aeryn climbed into the cot, bundled up, and fell asleep to the sounds of the chamber surround.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aeryn spent the next weeken busying herself with maintenance tasks. Field cannons were stripped and cleaned, Prowler ammunition repacked and organized, and reconnaissance sorties re-evaluated. On Moya, Aeryn was the closest thing to a captain, though she refused to be treated as such by the other crewmembers. To them she was simply "Aeryn". Regardless, they all deferred to her will regarding issues aboard the Leviathan, and because of it, Moya was one of the most efficiently-run ships in the caravan.

After two solar days of cold digital exchange, Aeryn finally commed Braca and apologized for her behavior aboard Galen. He was understanding, and offered assurances that his estimation of her had never wavered from exceptional. Soon after, she contacted Velorek and took a 'rain check' on their date. He understood. There were no secrets between them regarding John. She would need time, and he was infinitely patient and gracious in his forgiveness.

She was lucky to have such companions, a thing she often neglected to remember.

It was the middle of the sleep cycle on the seventh solar night when a priority transmission came through to her quarters. She bolted from the bed and rushed across her quarters to the small, clamshell display at her desk. It was Braca.

"Aeryn," he began immediately, his face alight with amazement. "The gunships have returned."

"Both safe?"

"Oh, yes," he answered with an exaggerated nod. "I'm patching a visual through."

She saw the wormhole, still intact but twisting with instability. There was no way to see the opening on the other side. Braca's voice came through over the visual.

"Now listen to this."

'_Zeeter One, retreat. Retrieve troops and retreat.'_

'_Zeeter Three, no contact...'_

Multiple Scarran transmissions were coming through now, panic and desperation apparent in their voices.

'_Abort...Abort!'_

'_Engines not responding!'_

_'Deflectors out! Targeting gone!'_

'_Hull integrity compromised! Venting atmosphere!'_

Braca's voice came through again. "Now...watch this."

The giant wormhole that was twisting there one microt, roaring with power, suddenly collapsed violently in on itself. No decay. No sign of diminishing. Just total, sudden collapse. Aeryn leaned forward, her eyes wide and mouth agape. A few microts passed before Braca appeared on the screen again.

All she could do was shake her head.

"I know," he said.

"The wormhole..."

He nodded. "It didn't end naturally. That thing was smote out."

Aeryn sat back into the chair, pushing her hair back and clasping at her head. "Was there anything after that?"

"No," Braca answered. "But just before the wormhole collapsed, the gunships decoded dozens of automated transmissions. They were warnings to the greater Scarran fleet. 'Do not follow'."

It was a standard protocol to prevent further loss againt an overwhelming force. She was at a total loss for words. What she had just witnessed defied every expectation of what should be happening. Three dreadnaughts! One could destroy the entire Leviathan caravan. What in Cholak's name was happening on the other side of that hole?

"Digest it for an arn or two," Braca said. "Sometime tomorrow, I'd like to meet with the command council. Maybe we could do it over second meal."

Aeryn nodded. When her voice finally came to her, it was a little hoarse.

"What in the hezmana?"

"No idea," he replied, turning to receive a document from a Command clerk. "But whatever it is, I don't know whether to run towards it or flee like a breetlevox."

"Agreed," she said, feeling a dissonant mix of fear, hope, and awe.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The command council – five ships' "captains" and ten elected representatives -- all met in Galen's main conference room the following day. They had watched the video more times than Aeryn could count, freezing it at certain points, enhancing the images, and squinting at hints of activity that flashed from Earth's space. At the current pause, a clear fire burst could be seen on the other side of the wormhole, a brief flicker between its shifting walls.

"See, that's an explosion," a stout, gray-headed man said, pointing a stubby finger at the image from across the table.

"We can't know that without some scale of reference, Gilbin," a woman replied. "It could be cannon fire for all we know."

"Or a thruster burst," suggested another man.

Aeryn listened to the other council members, her arms crossed and back slanted across her chair. Her eyes, however, remained fixed on the orange-red plume centered in the sliver of open space beyond the wormhole. The picture was poorly rendered, roughly pixilated from repeated zooming, but she felt certain that they were looking at a violent explosion. The plume expanded laterally in a rough cone-shape, emanating from a blurred object. It was sure to be a ship. In space, only a massive release of a pressurized atmosphere could provide fuel and momentum for a column like that. As for the ship, very little detail could be discerned from the image, but a uniform roundness suggested they were looking at it from the front or rear. That would mean the damage had occurred along its length, a strategically vulnerable position. If it were a Dreadnaught, it had been either outmaneuvered or overwhelmed.

"Well you've all heard the audio," Braca said. "It's obvious they weren't engaging in practice maneuvers."

A few chuckles rolled across the table.

Gilbin sat back, resting his joined hands over the pillow of his gut. "So what do we know about this planet...its distance, inhabitants?"

Braca paused for a moment, thumping the table with a quick series of finger-taps. "It's called 'Earth' by its inhabitants – at least by the one we've communicated with. It's located on an outer spiral arm of the galaxy, roughly 160 degrees from our trans-central axis."

The former Peacekeepers at the table straightened in their seats, some of them casting quick glances between Braca and Aeryn. The silence lingered for a bit.

Gilbin looked across the gathering with a twisted brow, grinning bemusedly at their furtive expressions. "Friends, I may be an excellent smuggler, but I'm a terrible mind-reader. Would one of you soldiers care to 'debrief' me?"

Aeryn was the only one that laughed – a bitter, short guffaw.

Braca looked over, eyeing her before continuing.

"Over twenty cycles ago, a being from Earth came to our region of the galaxy through a wormhole. Officer Sun was the first to encounter it...or him, I should say."

At once, she noticed most of the former Peacekeepers were averting their eyes while the remaining Sebaceans stared intently.

Braca continued. "Her initial interaction with the alien led to her discharge from our organization. So, when our relationship with her ended, hers with the alien began."

"Moya's band of misfit renegades," Gilbin interjected. "I remember those cycles well. I always appreciated the attention she and her crew drew away from my own affairs." He looked at Aeryn. "Was one of your band this alien?"

"Yes," Aeryn answered.

Gilbin raised his eyebrows, urging further explanation. "And?"

"What else would you like to know?"

He sat back with an exasperated chuckle. "Well, for starters, was his species capable of what we've seen and heard here today?"

"Definitely not."

"Then are you sure this is his planet?"

"Absolutely."

Gilbin wiped his lip, staring back from beneath a lowered brow. "And you don't see anything...strange about this?"

"Why do you think I've been sitting at this table with you other frellniks? Of course I think it's strange."

"Well how in the hezmana did he cross the galaxy to get here? No ship I know of has ever traveled that far."

"I told you," Braca interjected, "he came through a wormhole."

Gilbin threw his arms up. "Oh, so that's how it's done when you don't have space-faring technology. Here I was thinking we'd have to invent ways of going faster to travel that far – but in fact, all we have to do is create a wormhole and zip on through. Which button is that?"

"He didn't create the wormhole," Braca replied in a bristling tone.

"No?"

"Well," Aeryn said, "technically he did. But it was an accident."

"An accident," Gilbin repeated. "So it was something random – something he couldn't recreate."

"Well, actually he did recreate it...at one point," she replied.

Gilbin looked around the room, displaying his exasperation with a shrug.

Braca leaned in, elbows on the table and fingers woven together. "He was obviously an exception to his species, Gilbin. Furthermore, whatever knowledge of wormholes he possessed, he gained it here, in this part of the galaxy."

"So what if he took it back home?"

"He's dead," Aeryn said, staring deadpan at the tabletop. "He never made it home."

Gilbin looked her over, leaning back with his chin in hand and eyes narrowing.

"What _exactly_ was this alien to you, Officer Sun?"

Aeryn's eyes rolled up slowly, meeting his glare with an unspoken challenge.

"This isn't an inquisition," Braca said. "Officer Sun, you don't have to..."

"He was my mate," Aeryn replied sharply, transfixing Gilbin with her stare.

Gilbin glared back, several microts passing before a slight grin twisted at the corner of his mouth. "Hence your excommunication from Braca's circle of friends. Irreversibly contaminated they liked to call it, as though they were the standard of purity." He chuckled dryly. "You should know that I, too, am unfit for duty – many times over." He eyed the ex-Peacekeepers at the table. "And I'd gladly do it again if only a Glendian pleasure vessel would come our way."

Several at the table were laughing now. Aeryn fought to stymie her own grin. She didn't relish finding common ground with this brash man, but she did respect his sense of individuality and rogue attitude towards Peacekeeper convention.

Braca rapped his knuckles on the table. "We're drifting from the matter at hand. Let's just assume there's no way for us to know what type of force the Scarrans encountered through that wormhole. Accepting that, what should our next step be, given the inclusion of this new player?"

"I vote we keep moving further out," one man said. "The Scarrans may have started a war here that'll bring these forces into the area. Let's not find ourselves associated with their aggression." A few others nodded, muttering their agreement.

"I couldn't disagree more," a woman countered. "If there's a force capable of meeting the Scarrans squarely, we should do everything in our power to aid them. This may be our only chance to put a stop to their expansion."

"And then you may find yourself free of the knife but under the gun," Gilbin said. "I agree that we should be cautious in our approach to this force. If it's true what Officer Sun says about these Earth creatures, then they've probably lost their planet to something far worse than Scarrans. We have no ties now, and can't assume an alliance can be made, especially when we have so little to offer."

Braca nodded. "I agree we should be conservative. We'll maintain our starburst plan for the next weeken or so. That should give us a chance to pick up some intel, maybe get some clue as to what's going on out there."

Following a few shared mumblings, the group fractured into smaller conversations, some of them standing as they collected papers and other stationary from the table top. While the room emptied, Aeryn remained in her seat, her eyes finding their way back to the image on the screen. Had something terrible come upon his world and planted itself there? Did Earth have its own surrounding horrors?

She picked up a small device from the tabletop and selected the video of the wormhole footage from before the Scarran advance. There within the stable wormhole was Earth, casting its blue reflection across the polished tabletop. She looked on in silence for a couple of macrots. A final glow on a dying ember of hope pulsed once more as she watched the luminescent walls swirl around the orb. Could they have done it? Could they have found a way?

She looked down at her hands, suddenly feeling ridiculous. It just wasn't possible.

"You still have hope for your lover's kind," a quiet, gruff voice said from behind her.

Aeryn turned sidelong, just enough to see Gilbin's form leaning in the doorway.

"I'm not a fool," she said.

"That's my impression," he replied.

Gilbin looked at the display for a moment. "I wouldn't discount them completely, though. Even if they've lost control of their planet, it's their world, and they know it well. Primitive cultures are hard to eradicate. They can disappear into their wilds and eek out an existence indefinitely."

Aeryn sighed, rubbing the sockets of her eyes. She had hardly slept since receiving Braca's transmission the previous eve, and the fatigue was catching up with her.

"Join me for a drink, Officer Sun. Together we can lament the passing of cultural diversity."

Aeryn swiveled her chair to face him, ready to reject his offer. But when she looked into his face, she saw something there that made her hesitate – a genuineness in his eyes that belied his rascally impression.

"All right. But just one," she said, standing up and walking past him through the door.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Galen's size afforded enough room for a few extravagancies, including an expansive lounge and an adjacent still for the production of intoxicants. Aeryn was on her third glass of raslak when she finally decided she would spend the rest of the evening drinking with this man. He was easy to talk to, immensely entertaining, and most importantly, he too had lost someone close, a non-Sebacean at that. He went on and on about the idiosyncrasies of physiology that presented 'interesting challenges' to extra-species coupling, along with several other features he referred to as 'fortuitous inclusions'. When he asked about her own experience, he was surprised to learn of the similarities – no, the outright identical features – that humans shared with sebaceans.

"It boggles the mind that two species could have evolved in a parallel fashion on opposite ends of the galaxy," Giblin noted, sliding an empty glass aside and starting on another. "John Crichton." He said the words as though he were tasting them, rubbing his chin with a gathered brow. "I swear I know that name."

"He built quite a reputation for himself in the short time he was here. Were you ever a bounty hunter?"

He laughed. "No, but I'd be very wealthy now if I'd turned myself in cycles ago."

Aeryn nodded. "I recall. As a Peacekeeper, I was briefly assigned to your pursuit and capture, along with your crew and Leviathan."

"Ha! You couldn't catch old Jango, could you?"

"No," Aeryn replied, taking a sloshing gulp from her drink. "He was a slippery freller."

"And still as wily as ever. You should come visit sometime. Even our Pilot is a scoundrel."

"I doubt that."

"Do you?" Gilbin pulled a small communicator from his pocket. "Call him. Ask him how many credits I owe him in gambling debts. You've never heard such profanity."

"Now I know you're lying," she replied with a dismissive wave. "Pilots have no use for currency."

"They do if they're hoarders. Currency buys things, and this one _loves_ his things. You can't even approach the console for all the gadgets and trinkets."

Looking over Gilbin's shoulder, Aeryn caught sight of Velorek as he entered the lounge, sharing his handsome smile with everyone he passed. It still amazed her that he was ever a Peacekeeper – so warm and outwardly affectionate. It took a lot of strength on his part to shine in such total darkness, but for all his cycles, he had done so, without provocation or inspiration. And despite the hezmana her betrayal had caused him, he remained true to his vision of her potential. She recalled finding him on that prison vessel soon after the collapse of the Peacekeeper Central Command. She had held him all night, begging for his forgiveness. During his internment, he had heard underground tales about her life as a renegade aboard Moya, and he assured her there was nothing but pride in his heart for what she had become. It had helped immensely with her healing, having a second chance to seize a second chance. They weren't mates; she was a mother first and a ship's commander second. But much of what was left had been given to him.

When Velorek saw them, he grinned at the empty glasses crowding their tabletop and turned to the bar. After placing an order, he walked over with three tall concoctions clamped between his hands.

"May I sit?" he asked.

"Ah...the Leviathan doctor," Gilbin announced, his arm held out to an empty chair. "And he's brought our medicine."

"And it'll go down easy," Velorek replied, smiling at the two of them as he bent at the waist to ease the glasses onto the table.

Aeryn smiled back, watching his clothes cling to the lean musculature of his body. After he sat, she snagged the bottom his chair with her boot and pulled him closer.

"How goes the massive inoculation?" Giblin asked.

"Finished for the most part. We'll be looking for any residuals, of course."

"Good. The females have been a bit distracted lately."

Velorek shook his head. "And Jango's bored I'm sure." He looked at Aeryn, leaning in a bit. "It's a known fact that Gilbin's Leviathan has sired more young than any other male in the fleet, including Galen."

Gilbin erupted in brash laughter. "He's a sneaky freller, I'll give him that -- likes to surprise 'em right after starburst."

Aeryn sneered at the thought of a male sneaking up on Moya like that. "Shouldn't these things be scheduled and arranged?"

"Now you sound like a Peacekeeper," Velorek replied.

"Can't fight nature," Gilbin added.

Velorek turned to Gilbin with a pointed finger. "But you could curb some of that unannounced propositioning. At the very least, it's disturbing to other crews."

"You'll have to talk to my Pilot. I think it's more him than Jango."

"That's disgusting," Aeryn said.

Gilbin shrugged, then downed the remainder of his drink. With a gruff shake of his head, he said, "I better catch a transport pod before my eyes shut for the night." He stood up from the table, listing slightly to the side. "Officer Sun, it's been a pleasure. And Velorek...try to have a little fun."

"I'll be coming through next weeken to replace some neural fibers," Velorek replied. "I hope you can have a talk with your Pilot before that."

Gilbin walked away with a flippant wave.

Aeryn leaned across the table's corner, palming her chin on a wobbling arm. Velorek slid in towards her on his folded arms.

"The Leviathan doctor," she said, exaggerating the enunciation. "I like that."

"And I like the looks of you, right now," he replied, grinning mischievously.

"Why? Because I'm drunk and easy?"

"Exactly," he said, his eyes wandering over her face and down to her chest. She felt his hand on her knee. "And for no other reason than that you beautiful tralk."

Aeryn leapt up from her chair and straddled his lap, throwing her arms around his neck, but she leaned in with more weight than intended, and the momentum knocked his chair back. They both fell onto the floor, laughing after the initial shock.

"Take me to your quarters before I frell you right here," she hissed into his ear, biting lightly at its curvature.

"What makes you think I'm in the mood?"

Aeryn laid her forehead against his, her eyes looking downward. "It's quite obvious."

Grinning, Velorek shook his head and snorted, "it's always your way and your time, isn't it?"

"Shhh...," she whispered, "not tonight," and kissed him briefly. "Just let it be easy this time."

Velorek held her eyes for a moment. She could see the questions, the things he wanted to say. But with a small shake of her head the thoughts receded into his dark eyes, leaving her to enjoy the simplicity of his company.

"Let's go," he said.

He stood up and pulled her to her feet. A few others in the lounge were looking on, some raising their glasses and laughing while others turned away in disgust. Velorek tucked her close under his arm and walked them towards the door. Aeryn wrapped her arms around his midriff, grinning through her disheveled hair at the onlookers while Velorek bid them farewell with a triumphant wave, the sound of clapping ushering them through the door.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aeryn bolted upright in the bed, startled awake by a sudden jarring motion. Within microts, Velorek was sitting up beside her.

"What was that?" she asked.

Velorek reached back and turned on a bed lamp. He listened for a moment to the hum of the Leviathan.

"We're making a hard bank," he said. "A tighter turn than what's in the usual flight plan."

Aeryn rolled over and fumbled through the clothes scattered beside the bed, snatching her communicator.

"Pilot, is everything alright?"

"Officer Sun," he answered. "We've starburst into a debris field."

"Can you identify any of it?"

"Yes, its Scarran. Numerous military vessels – mostly frigates and transports."

Velorek turned with a startled look, then scrambled to dress. Aeryn stood from the bed and dressed herself one-handed, still holding the communicator.

"We have to leave immediately, Pilot," she said, pushing her leg through her pants as she bounced on one foot.

"It'll be a quarter arn before we can starburst again."

"I know, but in the meantime we still need to get some distance from the wreckage. As much as possible."

"Captain Braca just issued that order from his chambers. He's headed to Command now."

"I'm going to meet him there. I'll be back on Moya after the next starburst."

Within five macrots, Aeryn was running through the door into Command. Braca was already there, looking out across the debris field through the front display.

"Anything moving?" Aeryn asked, walking up beside him.

"Nothing on our scanners. I'd wager there are a few dormant ones out there, though."

"Then they're communicating our position."

Braca nodded. "Of that, I'm sure."

"How could we have starburst directly into this? The odds..."

"...are impossible. It's almost as if they were waiting for us. I've changed the burst plan. The navigators are plotting a new series right now."

Braca took another step forward, the small turns of his head tracking the shattered hulks of the Scarran war machine. "Look at that. It's magnificent." He pointed. "There, that frigate. Torn in half! And the Strikers -- there must be hundreds, all blasted apart."

"Then they're here," Aeryn muttered.

Braca looked at her briefly and nodded. "Yes." He turned to the wreckage again. "They're here, whoever they are."

"Captain," said a man looking into a view scope. "I've found something. It doesn't appear to be Scarran."

"Put it on the display."

Aeryn turned to the clamshell. The image zoomed in through the debris, focusing on an object in its center. It was completely round, light gray mostly with a darker band running around the width of its middle. The lighter top and bottom were not continuous with the center band, giving Aeryn the impression that there were three functional components separated by the grooves. The surface was dotted with holes of two different sizes located at uniform distances from each other. Burn marks smeared its surface, and a portion of its side was blasted off.

"It's not much bigger than a Prowler," said Braca. "Some kind of mine, maybe – or a reconnaissance satellite."

"What's the purpose of those holes?" the navigator asked.

"Cameras, thrusters, guns – who knows?" Braca answered.

Aeryn stepped a few paces aside and spoke into her communicator.

"Pilot, where's Jack."

"He's on Veleon, Officer Sun."

"Please contact him and have him return to Moya after the next starburst."

"I will."

Aeryn looked back at the debris, rubbing the variegated, metal surface of the communicator between her fingers. She breathed deeply, trying to stymie her worry over being separated from her son during this situation. He was on Veleon, a powerful and very capable ship. She had to remind herself to trust in her comrades, both sebacean and Leviathan, to take care of her most precious treasure.

"Starburst in seven macrots," Galen's Pilot announced over the coms.

Aeryn caught a glimpse of something near the underside of the strange round vessel displayed in the clamshell. She hunched forward, squinting as she walked towards the display. There was something written, barely visible beneath a charred smear, but the pattern was there.

"Zoom in further on this area," she said, pointing to the writing.

The image of the object grew with each successive zoom, honing in on the space she had indicated. There were three characters, almost completely blackened over with soot – 'E…D…F'. They were familiar, but how she couldn't quite recall. EDF – EDF – EDF. She stared at the characters, eyeing them over and over until her lips moved absently in quiet enunciation. "Eeee...deeee...efffff." EDF. Her breath caught in a hitch. EDF! It was English!

"Braca!" she called out, wide-eyed and pointing to the screen. "It's English – these characters!"

"What are you talking about? What's 'English'?"

"These letters," she replied. "'EDF' -- they're from John's language – English."

"Humans?" Braca advanced to the screen, looking closely at the characters. "That's impossible."

"I'm positive. I've seen enough of John's writings to know."

"Captain!" shouted a woman nearby. "Object detected on scanners. Coming in fast."

They ran to the scanner display. A large vessel was moving in, followed microts later by the appearance of two smaller ones.

"Can we get a reading on their identity?" Braca asked.

"They're coming in range now." The computer processed the radar pings into a rough shape. The radar technician leaned in to the screen, her brow furrowed tight as shape formed from the blob of light moving in on their position. Her eyes widened in an instant of recognition.

"It's a Dreadnaught!"

Braca jerked his head up from the display and rushed to the center of the floor. "Open all frequencies and sound the alarm! Assume treeza formation, all gunships to the rear! Pilot, how much longer until starburst?"

"Some can make it in two macrots," the Pilot answered, "the latest can't until five."

"I want all ships bursting as soon as they're able," Braca ordered. "We'll regroup as best we can."

"Sir, we'll be in firing range in thirty microts," said the radar tech. "And Strikers have been released. A full squadron."

"Frell!" Braca yelled. He looked at Aeryn, the muscles of his jaw rolling beneath the taut skin of his face. "Do we scatter or not?"

"No," she answered. "The gunships couldn't protect us. Every Leviathan would be picked off by the Strikers. They'll have more trouble maneuvering through a tight column. And we can ram them up close."

"Agreed."

"Ten microts until we're in firing range!"

Braca lowered his head and took a deep breath, then looked up at the display. "Give me a rear visual of the caravan."

Aeryn stood frozen with her eyes on the clamshell display. She knew what was coming next – a sequential elimination of the slowest Leviathans, the lame and the old. She could hear the strain in Galen's engines, pushing forth with everything he had. A few of the faster females were passing him now, Moya being one of them. It was a small thing to be thankful for.

But Jack wasn't aboard Moya. Aeryn looked desperately for Veleon in the rear formation of gunships. They would dodge the Dreadnaught's cannon fire as best they could, staying alive to fight the Strikers. The cannon fire was deadly, but the Strikers would eat the Leviathans alive. She dug her nails into her palms, wishing with all Hezmana that she could face them squarely in her Prowler.

The first flash approached, a cannon blast picking off one of the rear Leviathans, the beast spinning wildly from the formation with a direct tail hit.

Braca sighed, the pain and anger barely checked in his ragged breath. "That was Zimmel."

Aeryn watched as two other Leviathans were blown apart, one of them with a young one at her side.

"Come on, little one," she whispered. "Speed up now. Don't look back."

And then there was another flash -- one of the gunships taking a direct hit this time. Aeryn advanced two paces to the display, holding her hand over her mouth. A few of the gunships started firing back from their rear turrets, a disorganized spray of cannon fire. They were raging now.

"Tell them stop firing!" Braca shouted. "Save that ammo for the Strikers!"

"The first ships have starburst," Galen's Pilot announced.

Aeryn sighed, a small relief. At least some of them would make it.

The Dreadnaught was in sight now, an enormous monster bearing down on them. Two more blasts came, one passing the flank of the caravan and another grazing over Galen's dorsal surface.

The blast rocked the deck, throwing Aeryn against the clamshell mount. The hard surface caught her in the ribs. She pushed back to her feet, grimacing against the pain.

"Damage report!" Braca called out.

"Cutaneous burn, caudal to the apex. All systems functioning," the Pilot answered.

He looked across the crew, blowing his breath out through pursed lips. "That was close."

Distress calls were coming in over the coms now. 'Engines out', 'life support failing', 'fire spreading' – every possible horror was being played out through the Command speakers. No way to fight, no way to run. Without help, they were done for.

"Braca," Aeryn said. "Issue a distress call, broadcast as far as you can. Give our position...and make it known we're sebacean."

He furrowed his brow in queer regard. "Are you farhbot? We'll have the rest of the Scarrans and every bounty hunter within a hundred systems coming down on us."

"Captain!" yelled the radar tech. "Strikers have entered the formation."

And just then Aeryn saw some of the fighters flashing by the view pane, followed microts later by an explosion on the upper decks. Sparks rained down all around, falling over her shoulders as she covered her head. The main lights flickered out, smoke gathering in the room. Another explosion rocked her to her knees.

"Braca! Do it now you frelling drannit! It's our only chance!" she yelled.

He looked up, sprawled on his hands and knees. Aeryn looked into his eye and willed him to comply.

"What the frell. We're dead anyway," he spat. "Comms officer! Issue a distress call! Sebacean fleet under Scarran attack. Request immediate aid."

Aeryn looked through the smoke at the Comms officer, kneeling at the console with his mouth up to the microphone. She yelled over the din of crashing support structures and exploding equipment. "Enunciate this! 'Please help us!'" She hoped she had remembered the phrasing correctly.

The officer nodded, and spoke again into the microphone, flames erupting all around.

"Everyone in Command, get to the terrace!" the Pilot's voice screamed over the coms. "The flames are spreading fast! We have to vent the upper decks!"

Aeryn got to her feet and pulled Braca up. Everyone ran for the door and sprinted through the corridors towards the final bulkhead before the terrace. Another explosion rocked the deck, throwing everyone to the floor and into the walls. For the last few motras, Aeryn crawled over the floor, every joint bruised and bleeding. She tasted blood in her mouth and felt its hot, wetness dripping slowly down her temple. When she finally passed the bulkhead, she collapsed to the floor, hacking violently from the smoke and exertion. The portal slammed behind her.

Braca leaned against the ribbed wall across from her, holding the side of his abdomen, blood covering his tightly pressed fingers. His head was listing to the side a little, his eye staring at a place on the wall just a few motras down from her.

"What do you see?" Aeryn asked, still panting.

He shook his head. "You don't want to know."

Aeryn shuffled across the corridor and plopped against the wall beside him. There was a narrow window running the height of the wall, facing Galen's aft, enabling them to look back along the length of the battered caravan. The formation was breaking apart now, the remaining Leviathans taking their own evasive actions. Scarran Strikers buzzed all around, their gunfire tearing through the hulls of the poor creatures. An occasional gunship flew by, blasting its cannons in all directions. And through the haze of blaster traces and cannon fire, the Dreadnaught loomed, the scattered Leviathans superimposed against its horrific face.

"Cholak," Aeryn whispered, feeling closer to panic than she ever had before. It was so immense. Her fingers found Braca's hand, intertwining tightly with his. He squeezed back.

"Some of them made it," he rasped.

Aeryn nodded. It would have to be enough.

"Officer Sun? Are you there?"

Aeryn clasped the com at her breast. "Pilot?"

"Yes, it's us. Can you escape Galen?"

"What in the hezmana are you doing here? Starburst out of here now!"

"Veleon's wounded. Moya won't leave without him."

"What?" She jumped to her feet and ran to the window. Through the mayhem, she found the crippled gunship, an enormous blaster wound on his hammond side. Strikers were harrying him from every direction. Denzil held his flank, firing madly at the attacking fighters.

Aeryn dropped to her knees, pressing her hand against the glass, tears burning in her eyes.

"No," she muttered, shaking all over.

Another cannon blast from the Dreadnaught grazed Veleon's flank, spinning him sidelong out of the formation. The Strikers continued their pouncing.

"Jack!" she screamed, beating her hand against the glass pane.

Two more of the Dreadnaught's cannons swiveled in on the crippled gunship.

"By Reezenak!" Galen's Pilot yelled into the com, startle apparent in his voice. "What's this?"

"Pilot?" Braca called out. "What do you see?"

"Something enormous -- unknown form. And it's coming in fast!"

Aeryn looked through the window, her eyes fixated on Veleon, unable to turn away. She would see it end. Jack deserved to have her with him when he died, even if only through a watchful eye. She drew a deep breath.

And then there was a roar overhead, shaking the walls around her.

A sudden barrage of fiery blasts slammed into the face of the Dreadnaught, the force of it knocking the enormous vessel off its course. Another volley followed, strafing the adjacent frigate and tearing it apart at the middle. Strikers reassembled in the center of the caravan and turned to face the new threat, but as they advanced, they were met by a rushing wave of smaller craft, orbs like the one they had spotted earlier. The strange machines weaved through the caravan, pursuing the Strikers and blasting them apart with deadly precision. Her eyes could barely follow their trajectories as they darted to and fro, firing in all directions.

Aeryn felt everyone in the corridor crowding at her back, their chins at her shoulders, all observing the battle. Gasps of disbelief slowly gave way to screams of glee and applause.

Aeryn snatched a quick look at Veleon. Moya was at his side now, several tube-like appendages extending towards his hull. A few of the gunships formed a protective ring around them.

Aeryn leaned into the window, her palms flat against the glassy surface as she watched the grand spectacle. The second frigate was being blown apart by whatever was overhead while the battered Dreadnaught reversed its course. The cannons on the Dreadnaught realigned towards the attacker above, and simultaneous bursts sent four blasts their way, one of them coming straight for Galen. But as everyone flinched back, a quick snap of fire from above scattered each of the blasts into empty space.

The Dreadnaught executed a full retreat, but didn't escape without another series of battering cannon fire. After it left, all Strikers left behind were quickly dispatched. Even the debris was blown into secondary and tertiary pieces by the small orb-shaped vessels.

When the fighting was over, everyone stood frozen at the window. After several microts, Braca broke the lingering silence with a small cough.

"Well, if they kill us all now, it was still worth it just to see that."

Nervous laughter rang out. The air was electrified, and the looks in everyone's faces reflected the great hope and slight fear that Aeryn felt. What they had just witnessed had been a fool's dream for so long. Now, lives that were forfeit just macrots ago were completely turned around.

"Mom!" came Jack's voice through the com.

"Jack?" Aeryn yelled back. "Thank Djancaz-Bru. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he answered, silent for a few microts. "It's good to hear your voice. I saw that beating Galen took. He looks bad from out here."

"So does Veleon. Will he make it?"

"I think so, I'm gathering some neural fibers from Moya right now." He grunted into the com, cursing at something that wouldn't come loose. "Have you seen it yet?"

"Seen what?"

He chuckled. "Go to the terrace. Contact me afterwards."

Once Jack clicked off, Aeryn looked down the corridor. The vertical door to the terrace was half ajar, and she couldn't see beyond to the observation window. She walked down the hall, padding tentatively as she approached. When she reached the door, she ducked under the half-opened portal and entered the room. There before her, against a massive wall of whitish gray, was Florida. And to the left of it Texas. And there was Mexico with all its tequila and every other geographic feature that John had once described from his sketches. The entire surface of Earth was laid flat into a grand, oval emblem, ornately wreathed with what appeared to be characters from its numerous languages. It filled the entire space of the observation window. Aeryn walked further in and looked to the sides. She couldn't even see the ends of the vessel, with all its tiers, decks and runner lights. It was magnificent – as beautiful as it was deadly.

Braca shuffled up next to her, still clutching his side as he looked at the ship. "Unbelievable."

"Yeah," she replied, her eyes up and arms hanging loosely at her side.

"Officer Sun," Pilot commed.

"Yes, Pilot."

"The Earth vessel has contacted us. They're sending a visual transmission."

"We don't have any displays up here."

"Keep the comms open. I'll patch the audio through."

There were a few microts of static, followed by some clicking noises. Then, a muffled voice on the other end mumbled something about where to look.

That voice...it almost sounded like...

"_Hello...testing...testing...sibilance...Elvis and ice cream..."_

"_Shut up_," came a woman's forceful whisper. "_Look at the lens and don't put your mouth so close to the mic!_"

"_Which one? There's a zillion cameras here._"

"_Shhh...you're on._"

"_Okay. Wait...is that...enhance that visual. Yeah...there. That's...oh my god. Moya? Moya, is that you_?"

"John?!" Aeryn screamed into her com. "John! It's me. Can you hear me?"

"Officer Sun," Pilot commed. "The patch is one-way. Stand by, we're receiving a private transmission."

Aeryn looked around at all the watching faces, barely able to process what was going on. Her patience gave way after ten microts. "Pilot! Is that him? Please answer me."

"Yes, Aeryn. It's Commander Crichton!"

Aeryn spun on her heels and ran to the observation window, throwing herself against the glass as she looked up at the ship.

"Pilot! Patch me through to him."

"I...can't. He just dropped the com and said he was on his way here. Another individual is addressing the fleet now."

"I'm on the way!"

Aeryn ran down the corridor and waved her hand frantically over the sensor to open the bulkhead.

"Come on, you frellnik!" she yelled, pounding on the door.

"Aeryn," Braca called from down the hall. "There's no atmosphere out there. It'll take some time to restore air and pressure."

"Frell!" she screamed, throwing her com to the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Many of the burned and lacerated members of Galen's crew covered the floors and benches of the transport pod. Aeryn stood at the exit hatch, holding fast to a support pole as the vessel snaked through the crowded, battered caravan en route to Moya.

She bounced on the balls of her feet, darting her sights to and fro over the door's surface. Images of John's face and humored grin played across her mind's eye. She tightened her lips to keep from smiling in the presence of the others' suffering. He was here. Really here. Alive.

She palmed the door, raking her nails absently over its surface. His body better be strong. Once her eyes were on him, he'd be catching her full weight in a dead run, suffocated in her arms.

"Maybe you should step away from the door, Officer Sun."

She looked over her shoulder at Braca, laying on his back along a wall-mounted bench, his face turned sidelong as he clutched the bandage at his side.

He grinned. "I'd prefer we reach the hangar before you open that hatch."

Aeryn waved him off and turned back to the door. "Quit your farbot rambling and get some rest." It seemed like the trip was taking arns. They were constantly stopping and moving laterally then denching forward again. The caravan was littered with smaller craft transporting supplies between the Leviathans. But they had wounded here, for Cholak's sake. She turned to Braca again.

"Are you alright?"

"Mostly, yes. There's the small matter of being at the mercy of a man I hunted for three cycles, but other than that..."

Aeryn laughed. "Things are different now. He'll understand."

"Let's hope so," he said, yawning as he laid an arm over his face. "You just be sure to remember who your friends are when you're cozied up with him tonight."

She beamed at those words, clutching at the fabric of her shirt, flutters dancing in her chest. There were so many possibilities, so many things to share and enjoy with him again. And Jack – he would know his father now, and John would be so proud of him; proud of his intelligence, his character, and his goodness – the things he called "heart". So many cycles had passed since she had returned to Moya to give John the child and family he'd always wanted – a thing she had come to want as well. Maybe it wasn't a lost hope.

But first she had to see him.

Aeryn shot a look towards the cockpit.

"Hezmana, what's taking so long?!" she yelled.

A helmeted head peered sidelong from beyond the pilot's seatback. "We're in a holding pattern around Moya."

"Tell them I'm on board and get us prioritized! We've got wounded."

"Sorry, Officer Sun. It's not our people jamming things up."

"What is it then?"

"It's the Earth vessel. They've sent a security detail to prepare for their Captain's arrival."

Captain Crichton. She chuckled at that. "Is he not there yet?"

"His transport's docked at an air lock, but they haven't boarded yet."

"Why aren't they using the hangar?"

"Don't know. He requested quick access to Moya's Pilot. This is the arrangement they made. Their security forces are taking positions in the connecting corridors. No sebaceans are allowed in the area."

"No," Aeryn said, hustling to the cockpit. "That's not right. Open a channel to Pilot."

The gloved hand keyed in a quick code over the console.

"Pilot? Are you there?"

"Yes, Officer Sun."

"Why are we being delayed out here?"

"I apologize. They're making very strict security demands."

"What's this I hear about our crew being cordoned off?"

"That was the Commander's request. He asked to see me...alone."

She shook her head, confusion in her blinking eyes. This wasn't right.

"Pilot...did you not tell him?"

The com was silent for a few microts.

"He knows, Aeryn."

She leaned over the console, hands flat against the panel, staring blankly over the flickering instruments. There had to be a good reason -- something he needed to verify or a protocol he had to follow. But that wasn't like him. He knew she was here, but he hadn't even made an effort to contact her.

"Pilot...what's wrong? Tell me."

"Aeryn...let me talk to him."

She shook her head. "No! What did he say to you when you told him about me?"

More silence.

"Nothing."

It was a slap in the face. Suddenly, she was aware of the others in the cockpit, tactfully directing their attention elsewhere. She stood up and straightened the ends of her shirt over her waistband, taking a deep breath to fight down the hurt that threatened to spill out. With a chin raised, she spoke in the most formal tone she could muster.

"I'm coming in now, Pilot. Please make whatever arrangements are necessary for me to meet with the Captain. I won't be delayed."

"I'll let him know," Pilot replied.

"Thank-you." She then directed her attention to the transport pilot. "Activate the emergency beacon and break from the holding pattern. Enter Moya's hangar bay on the next pass."

"But we're under strict orders, Officer Sun. They were explicit in saying that..."

"The only orders you follow come from me, pilot," Braca bawled from behind her. "Now do as she said."

Aeryn turned and saw Braca leaning in the cockpit doorway, grimacing with the pain she knew was there. _Thank-you, old friend_ -- the thought whispering beneath her weak smile. He nodded, her disappointment registered in his expression of understanding. He spoke quietly.

"You're doing the right thing."

"I hope so."

As they approached the hangar, several of the orb-shaped fighters moved aside to allow them in, closing ranks behind them to seal off passage for the other vessels maintained in the holding pattern. At least he had gotten the message. When she exited the transport pod, the hangar was crawling with sebaceans, most of which had been ushered from other parts of Moya for a single-chamber containment. She pushed through the crowd, various complaints being hurled upon her by the disgruntled mob – grievances that included harsh treatment, unfair imprisonment, and even property seizure. Aeryn nodded, waving a placating hand as she advanced towards the inner corridor.

Armed guards were standing at the corridor's entrance, three rows deep -- enormous men covered in sleek, silver plate armor with guns held ready across their chests. Helmets and visors covered all but their mouths and jaw lines. She approached with a trailing crowd, and the front row of soldiers dropped to their knees, snapping their guns forward at the advancing mob. Everyone jerked back reflexively, but Aeryn stood her ground.

"You've invaded my ship! I demand an audience with your Captain!"

A woman pressed through the soldiers from the corridor beyond, her dark eyes leering over the crowd as she shouldered her way to the fore. She was a dench taller than Aeryn and a little wider at the shoulders, wearing a dark blue uniform with golden embroidery that clung tightly to the lean musculature of her frame. Her blond hair was cropped short, adding severity to an already stern, chiseled countenance. With her hands at her hips, she advanced to within a half-motra of Aeryn and looked her directly in the eye. She was definitely military.

"Are you Aeryn Sun?" she asked.

"I am, and who the frell are you?"

The woman ignored her question and turned to one of the soldiers behind her, whispering something into his helmet. She turned to face Aeryn again.

"Come with me, please," she said, turning towards the corridor. There was little courtesy in her tone.

"You don't give orders on this Leviathan."

The woman turned back, glaring with an arched brow. "For the time being, I do, Peacekeeper." She gestured to the corridor beyond. "Now -- I believe you were seeking an audience?"

_Peacekeeper_. The grinding of Aeryn's teeth grated in her ears. She would have a go at this tralk before it was over.

They walked in silence through the corridors en route to Pilot's den. The woman leading them seemed to know the layout perfectly, easily navigating the numerous turns and splits. Aeryn looked sidelong to the soldiers at her flanks. They marched in even cadence, weapons at the ready. It felt strangely familiar.

When they reached the entrance to Pilot's den, the soldiers formed columns on either side of the door, joining the ones already posted there. The woman waved her hand over the sensor and entered the chamber. Aeryn followed.

She froze at the sound of his laughter. There, far across the walkway in the center of pilot's den was John's distant form, sitting on the console with his legs turned to its center. He wore a uniform similar to the woman's, but with more boarding and embroidery. He gestured wildly with the same old illustrative adjuncts that accompanied his usual Crichton-dren, and Pilot's claws danced about as well. The reunion looked joyous, their laughter and gurgling intermingling in the echoes of the chamber surround.

"Captain!" the woman called out.

John snapped his head around and scanned the walkway. When his eyes found her, he whipped his legs over the console and stood up.

"That'll be all, Lieutenant," he said, rubbing his palms over his pants.

"Aye, sir."

Aeryn heard the door close behind her.

The supply bag she was carrying dropped absently from her hand, the silence cracked by the tings of a few metallic items spilling across the walkway. Slowly, one tentative footstep after another, she padded forth, her arms hanging loosely at her side.

Then he smiled.

A sudden breath and she was running to him, jumping into his arms and clasping him desperately in her grasp.

He laughed, rocking back a few steps and hefting her tight in a steely embrace.

"It's good to see you," he groaned.

She cried into the crook of his neck, squeezing with everything she had.

"I don't care how, I don't care why. Just tell me it's real."

"It's real, Aeryn," he said, his voice cracking. "It's me."

He lowered her to the ground, his hands clasped at her lower back. With only a few grays, he was the same beautiful man she'd known so long ago. And in his eyes there was the old peace that distinguished him when they first met. He was whole again, recovered from the miseries of his time spent in her world.

He reached for her face, but hesitated just before his fingertips touched her cheek. "I forgot how beautiful you were."

She smiled, shaking her head at this unlikely but wholly wonderful reality. "John," she whispered, then clutched the material at his breast and kissed him hard. It was everything she remembered and more, the charge between them, the rapid collapse of sensibility and control. She felt the old rush of being swept away in the torrent, mindless of everything around. They kissed desperately, stumbling back against the console.

Then he pulled away.

"Aeryn…," he whispered, shaking his head.

She grunted, protesting between kisses, tortured by the break in their heated affection. When he dropped his hand to her side, she clasped it in her own. And there, rolling between her fingertips, was the cold metallic surface of a band on his left hand. The chill she felt could've passed for real fright. She knew its meaning, having privately imagined such a thing on her own hand many times during their few cycles together.

She held it up before her eyes, frowning at her distorted reflection in the ring's smooth, platinum surface.

"You have a mate," she muttered.

He nodded, his eyes cast down. "I do – I mean, I did -- until recently."

He'd lost someone. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He nodded, his eyes restless as they looked for a place to settle. "So you look good – healthy." His eyes wandered over her head. "Only a few grays."

She took both of his hands and held them before her. "I have something to tell you."

"Oh?"

She nodded. "After we parted, I returned to Moya somewhat...changed. In a lot of ways really – but one way in particular."

His sights dropped to her abdomen. "So it was true, then."

"What?"

"The bun in the oven."

She shook her head, not understanding him.

"The baby, Aeryn," he finished, a hint of ice in his tone.

"You knew about it?"

He let go of her hands and crossed his arms, leaning back into the console. "Yeah, I knew -- found out just after the whole 'we're in the hands of fate' spiel."

"How?"

He stared back. "Are you serious? Does that actually matter?"

"No, Crichton, it doesn't. It's just..."

Just then, the com at his belt beeped.

"_Captain_," came a woman's voice.

He raised the com to his mouth. "Yeah, hon."

"_Dad!_" she whispered. "_Use my rank!_"

He rolled his eyes. "Sorry ensign. What's up?"

"_Another Leviathan just died. They're requesting immediate assistance with crew evacuation. Should we remain disengaged?_"

"No, they're not Peacekeepers. Pilot says the Leviathans are carrying them willingly. If they need help, get to it."

"_Should we bring wounded aboard?_"

"No. Just assist with transfers."

"_Aye, sir_."

John clicked the com off and rubbed his eyes for moment. "So did you come to term?"

"What?"

He looked at her stomach again. "The baby. Did you have it?"

_It_.

"Of course," she answered.

"You'll be very proud of Jack," Pilot chimed in from behind.

He almost grinned. "You named him Jack?"

"Yes," Aeryn said.

"He would've appreciated that," John muttered.

"You always talked fondly about your father. I wanted to honor that. "

"I wasn't talking about Dad," he replied.

His words were like a whip. She felt like retching.

John rubbed his brow. "No. That was just...I'm sorry."

All she could do was stare back. Never, in all her fantasies, did she ever anticipate it happening like this.

"No, you meant what you said, John." She raised her chin. "And maybe you have the right. But I want you to know that seeing you alive, after thinking you dead all these cycles is the happiest moment I've known since Jack's birth."

He slouched a bit. "Ouch."

"And congratulations," she said.

"Hmm?"

"On your daughter."

He looked down, his cheeks a little flushed. "Oh. Thanks. You too. On Jack, I mean." He tried to smile. "I guess we're parents, now."

Aeryn looked at the clamshell, rubbing her upper arms as she turned. The Earth ship hovered in the display.

"I see you've made some modifications to the module," she said.

John laughed. "Not bad for a backwards Earth man, huh?"

Pilot zoomed the image in on the vessel, scanning across the details of its surface. "It may be Ancient technology, Commander, but I can still see your influence in the design."

"Ancients?" Aeryn asked.

John nodded. "Yep. You remember -- the dog-lobster men with the souped-up holodeck?"

"Of course I remember them," she answered, feeling a strange sensation of shyness when he looked at her. "You built this with what they put in your head?"

"Actually...we built it with _them_."

"What?"

John sat up on the console and patted the space next to him. Aeryn sat beside him.

"You know I was left alone when we parted," he said.

She frowned at the memory. "Yes."

"I was right at the end, drifting in the module, out of air and freezing my ass off. You were the last thing I thought about before I passed out. Then, next thing I know, I was in a medical bay orbiting Earth."

"The Ancients," she whispered.

He nodded. "They found me right before I died, and spent the last of their power creating a wormhole to Earth. It was a big gamble on their part."

"They were still searching for a place to live?"

"Yeah – and it was getting pretty bad for them."

The Ancients. Could they have tracked her from Dam-Ba-Da? "Are they here, on your ship with you?" she asked.

"No. Most of them haven't cared for space travel since they arrived on Earth." He snorted a brief chuckle. "They've settled in Arizona. You should've seen them running out into the sand, sprawling their naked bodies across that hot grit. You'd think they'd found Shangri-La."

"They like deserts?"

"Love 'em. Lucky for us actually. No one else wants to live out there."

"And your people have accepted them, despite the previous impression?"

"Yep, but it wasn't easy at first. They were in orbit for two years before our governments reached a consensus for bringing them in. I've never dealt with a more frustrating process."

She looked into her lap. "Well you have a talent for wearing down people's barriers."

He grinned. "I wish I could take the credit." He paused for a moment. "It was someone else who convinced the world that taking the Ancients in was in our best interest." There was a guarded sadness in his words.

She knew immediately who it was. "Your mate."

He looked down. "You still know me, don't you?"

"I see a part of you every day."

He looked up at her, and for a moment she felt the connection in his eyes. He needed to trust her. She took his hand.

"Tell me about her," she said.

He began slowly. "Her name was Maura. She was a high-up government type, but a big fan of the 'cosmic anthropology' I was pushing." He snorted a brief chuckle. "You've gotta understand how crazy I must've looked to everyone on television, doin' interviews and describing the things I'd seen."

Aeryn smiled. "I think I can picture that."

He nodded. "Well, she bought into my craziness, but had the lobbying experience to push the agenda. And with the threat of Peacekeepers and Scarrans out there, hers was a hard argument to counter." He paused for a moment, scratching at his neck.

"And?" she asked.

"Well, she and I were working so close together, it just kinda happened that we got married and had a baby – but not necessarily in that order.

"Oh," Aeryn said, nodding.

He cleared his throat. "So anyway, one of our damn diseases came along and ended all that a little over a year ago."

"I'm sorry."

He nodded. "I have to tell you -- she saved me, Aeryn, at a time when I thought nothing would ever be right again." He looked down. "And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy."

Aeryn smiled bleakly. "And I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt a little. But knowing you made it is worth way more than that."

John scooted from the console and dropped to the floor, inching up against her knees. He clamped her legs together in his hands.

"Has it been bad?" he asked.

She nodded, finding no words of affirmation to express the magnitude of it all.

"What's happened to the others?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I lost track long ago. D'Argo's roiled in some civil war back home, if he's still alive that is. Rygel returned to Hyneria once the Scarrans fractured his empire. But there's no power to be had there anymore."

"What about Jool and Chiana?"

"Jool and Noranti were hiding away on some priests' planet when I last heard. It's been over fifteen cycles. And Chiana, I have no idea. I haven't seen her since we all parted."

"Who's Noranti?"

"That weird old woman we picked up from the Command Carrier."

John's eyes darkened for a moment.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing. Just processing."

Aeryn nodded. "We were a misfit crew, weren't we."

"Yeah, but it felt like family for a while there."

"It did."

He patted her thighs. "So this caravan, it's really all that's left of you?"

She nodded. "They'll never stop coming for us."

He drew her to the edge of the console and stepped in between her legs, hugging her midriff.

"We'll figure something out, okay?"

Aeryn nodded, closing her eyes and resting her cheek on his head. The macrots passed in silence as Pilot tended the minutia of day-to-day Leviathan operation.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

John watched her cross the walkway from Pilot's console, tall and perfectly poised, her boots clopping against the metal surface as she tied her hair up. He memorized the lines of her shoulders and the curvature of her hips again. There was a fluid art in her graceful motion that was wholly unique in the universe. It was purely woman and beautiful in every way. He almost called her name out.

When she passed through the door, a uniformed clerk from his crew was waiting to accompany her and see to her supply demands. Two guards peeled off from the ranks outside the door and followed them away.

John leaned back against the console, rubbing his face in his hands. The ring glimmered in his eye. He held his hand before him and lifted it to the last knuckle, turning it a few times before pushing it back down again.

Aeryn would be gone for an arn or so, checking on Moya's wounded offspring. When she returned, Jack would be with her.

"A son," he muttered.

"She's very proud of him," Pilot said from behind.

"I'm sure she did a good job."

"That would be an understatement."

He sighed, letting a few microts pass in silence.

"Commander, I don't make it a practice to eavesdrop on others' affairs, but my proximity to you and Officer Sun this past arn left me with little choice."

"Okay, spill it, Pilot."

Pilot tended a few things on the console before speaking. "I found your reaction to Officer Sun's telling of Jack's existence quite...distressing." There was an increasing sharpness in his tone. "And frankly, Moya and I are somewhat angered by it."

He'd regretted it as soon as he'd rebuffed her joyous revelation. But damn what did she expect from him? Where was her enthusiasm when they'd had a chance to actually do it together?

"Sometimes we say things we don't mean, Pilot."

"You meant what you said."

"No -- I meant for what I said _to hurt_."

"Hmmf. And that makes it better?"

"No – probably makes it worse, actually."

"On that we agree. Do us this courtesy, Commander – if you don't consider him your son, please leave Moya immediately and don't come back. We would prefer that Jack be spared the disappointment."

"Of course he's my son, Pilot!" John spat, rubbing his hands gruffly over his face. "_I_ know that. It's Aeryn's perspective that I'm not so sure about."

"That's absurd. How could you not notice her happiness when she tried to tell you about him? And you expressed no curiosity whatsoever about the person he's become. Your own offspring. Despicable!" he growled, raking a claw over the console.

John threw his hands up. "I know, I know! I acted like an ass! Believe me, I'm not loving myself a whole lot right now."

"Once again we agree."

John stuffed his arms together in a tight fold. On the one hand, he was heartened by Pilot's loyalty to Aeryn, grateful that she'd had his support through the years. But on the other, Pilot's one-sided view of the situation was beginning to grate on him.

"So you think I'm wrong?" John asked.

"Unequivocally."

"And you think that under any circumstance, Aeryn would have me both as a mate and as a father to her child?"

"Absolutely, though I'm beginning to question her judgment on that."

John paced a few more steps. "Then let me ask you this, Pilot. If the other Crichton had lived, was here with her today, and she had conceived Jack with him back on Talyn, can you honestly tell me she would still see me as his father?"

Pilot looked back, mouth open but no words coming.

"Yeah," John said, nodding triumphantly. "I'd be Uncle Johnny at best, and you know it." _Get a taste of __**my**__ cold dinner, clam-head_.

"It was an impossible situation, Commander. It's not fair to judge her under those circumstances."

Now they were getting somewhere. "And I understood that. Love is love and you can't mold it to fit your schemas, so you take it however it comes. That in mind, I did everything I could to step in behind the other guy. It was still _us_ for Christ's sakes. The Flax, false Earth, honeyed tongues, the frozen planet...there was still an _us_.

"But you see, that didn't matter to her. I wasn't him, and that was that. Good-bye -- adios. So please forgive me if I don't have the greatest confidence in her unwavering devotion. Any little slip on my part and I'm the 'copy' again."

"It wasn't an easy choice for her, Commander."

"No, but it was, Pilot. That's the whole problem. She always took the easy way out when it came to matters of the heart. And the worst part is, she never seemed to care how it affected me."

"That's completely inaccurate."

He slammed his hands onto the console, yelling now. "How, Pilot? How could she have cared and still left with my child? I missed his whole life! I'm about to meet a man I don't know and I'm his god-damned dad! All she had to do that day was let me go with her or stay here with me on Moya and this never would've happened!"

In a quick snap, Pilot tapped the ring on his hand with the tip of his claw. It was amazing how precise he could be with that thing.

"And look what that would have cost you, Commander."

_A wonderful daughter_.

John froze, his mouth hanging dumbly. He hadn't even thought of that. Damn, what was happening to him? Only Aeryn could make him this crazy. Just last year she was a sad distant memory, and he was mourning a different loss but fully at peace. Now, he felt like he was drifting in his module again. He turned slowly and slouched against the console.

"I just never know what she'll do," he muttered, weary of his demons.

"Then you need to get to know her again. She is the most loyal and caring individual I have ever known. And that's saying a lot given the present company."

John snorted with a half-cocked grin. "Don't make me cry here, Pilot."

He felt the heavy touch of Pilot's claw against his shoulder.

"Look deep and find a way, Crichton. They need you now more than ever."

That was no understatement. From the bridge, he'd witnessed the devastation wrought upon them by the Scarran ships. Sebacean and Leviathan, clinging together in a perilous struggle for survival. What chance did they have against such odds?

"I would never leave her in danger, Pilot. No matter what. That goes for you and Moya, too."

"And we take great comfort in knowing that." He looked to the clamshell display of the ship. "And your friends are also appreciated, although some improvements in their behavior would be a nice gesture."

Scratching the back of his neck, John replied, "yeah, sorry about the Storm Trooper invasion. We came in ready to deal with Peacekeepers. I was gunnin' to vent those bastards if they were keeping you and Moya by force. You know my feelings on that bunch."

"We understand. I can't say Moya and I would've been appalled at seeing that ship of yours dispatch a Command Carrier or two in the past." They watched the ship's image hovering in the clamshell for a few microts. "What a magnificent vessel."

John smiled at the display, going through a cursory hull check in his mind as he scanned the ship's surface. The sight of her never got old. Growing up, he and DK had built countless models, stringing them all over from the ceiling of his dad's garage – X-wing fighters, the Millennium Falcon, even a home-designed conceptual from the video game, Defender – all arranged in various formations and battle scenarios. Detail was the name of the game. But it was a Star Destroyer that had been the pinnacle of their efforts, a five-foot behemoth built with meticulous care over the course of an entire high school summer. Today, it sat on a pedestal in the center of their shared laboratory, a constant source of inspiration during the long hours spent in ship-design and construction.

And if he squinted just right, he could see a slight resemblance in the image before him.

"_Captain_," a woman's voice chirped in.

"That's my girl," John smiled, grabbing his com. He dropped to a low baritone. "Yes Ensign, this is your Captain speaking."

She cleared her throat. "_Dr. Sturgeon has requested permission to set up a med facility on one of the Leviathans. The situation is critical for the sebacean wounded. He's got a team assembled in the hangar_."

"Fine, get him over there."

"_And one other thing, there's a sebacean scientist requesting material aid. He's a Leviathan specialist -- needs some supplies for the wounded ships. Should I patch him through to Engineering?_"

"A Leviathan specialist?" John asked, chuckling suddenly. He cupped his hand over the com and said to Pilot, "where was _he_ back in the day?"

Pilot shrugged, keeping his eyes on the console.

"_Ahem...sir, should I patch him through?_"

"Yeah, but keep tabs on his request. I'd like to see the specifics. Oh, and arrange for immediate transport to Moya."

"_Who for, sir?_"

"For you, Liz. And bring some tissue."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack stood rigid with a roll of bio-plaster in one hand and a wrench in the other, his body spattered all over with a dark, viscous liquid. His eyes tracked the creeping bulb of a bolus of fluid as it wound through the network of Veleon's nutrient tubes, denching towards the patch he'd just redone for the fifth time. As it closed in, he noticed a single drop swelling at the patch's belly.

"Aelan, stop it! Turn it off!"

Footsteps rushed along the walkway above, followed by the squeal of a valve's turning.

The bulb sped up.

"No! The other way!"

But just as Jack leapt to clamp his hands over the tube, the bulb hit the patch and exploded in his face.

"Frell!" he yelled, throwing the wrench across the room.

The tool banged against the wall, barely a motra from the door where Aeryn was walking through. Without flinching, her eyes tracked the item as it clanged against the wall and bounced over the floor. She nodded approvingly.

Jack clamped his head with an embarrassed grimace.

"Sorry," he said.

"You should be – you didn't even break anything with that outburst."

Wiping his hands on his pants, Jack advanced across the room, but suddenly his boots slid out from his center, his limbs flailing wildly as he fought for purchase on the oily surface.

In a flash, a quick grip under his arm had him stabilized and on his feet again. Holding him squarely, Aeryn's blue-gray eyes stared into his with sharp alertness, then relaxed with her humored grin. Jack looked back sheepishly, laughing as he held fast to the material of her shirt. Aeryn released her grip looked at the gook on her hand, slinging the excess off along the wall.

"Have you seen him?" Jack asked.

"Yes," she nodded. "He's waiting for us on Moya."

"Right now?" Jack whipped his sights over his filthy clothes. "Give me just a microt."

Aeryn drug him out by his arm. "Come on, he won't care about your appearance."

But when they passed a waste receptacle, he darted in and yanked his shirt off. With a quick twist he turned the faucet on, nearly ripping the valve off the sink with the force of the turn. Frantically, he splashed water over his head and torso and banged on the soap dispenser, filling his palm with the oozing degreaser. Within microts his entire head and upper body were completely lathered over. He shoveled water over his body, handful after handful, splashing the suds off and scattering the foamy wash over the walls and floor.

Still dripping, he darted into the corridor and grabbed the first passer-by that came his way.

"Please – can I have your shirt?"

"No!" the woman yelled, jerking her arm away before storming off.

"Jack!" Aeryn laughed. "Calm down, son. There's a change of clothes on the transport pod."

"Oh yeah," he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Wait – which uniform? Does it have sleeves?" he asked, his hand splayed over the rough scar tissue on his forearm.

Her eyes fell to the scars, the smile on her face withering.

"Yes, Jack," she answered quietly. "It has sleeves. Now let's go."

Once on the transport pod, Jack changed into the spare uniform, straightening the fabric over his arms and ruffling his hair in the mirror of the small waste receptacle. His mouth was parched, and no amount of water he drank seemed to help. He dabbed at his face, soaking up the beads of moisture. Was it sweat or water? He took a quiet moment to gather himself, hands laid flat over the sink-top, head hanging from his shoulders.

He hoped there would be a sense of familiarity when they met, but he had little to go by other than the tales and anecdotal musings passed on to him by Aeryn and Pilot. But there were lots of those, and there were also the videos from Moya's databanks, watched over and over again, most often with Pilot, but on occasion with Aeryn. One in particular came to mind. It was a surveillance clip from Moya's hangar bay. It began with flickering static, then steadied on the image of his father's face, a close-up captured while he repaired the surveillance recorder. In the video he was muttering a song, something about a 'Rocket Man', the image jerky with his constant adjustments. It was clear he didn't know all the words, or at least not well enough to reach the clarity-threshold for the translator microbes.

"_I miss the Earth so much, I miss my wife -- hmm-hm-hmm-lonely out in space..."_

_From behind, two arms snaked around John's midriff, clasping him tightly. Aeryn's face appeared next to his, her chin on his shoulder. _

"_What wife?" she asked._

_He smiled without turning. "Oh, the one in Tennessee. Or was it the one in Ohio? I lose track."_

_She dug her fingers into his ribs, holding fast against his squirming. "This from a man who can't even bed a drunken tralk."_

_He turned sidelong. "Excuse me – I'm not the one pressing her boobs into someone's back."_

"_You like boobs, huh?" she asked, hugging even tighter against him with a mischievous grin. _

"_I have a pulse, don't I?"_

_She let go of him and spanked his behind before walking off. _

"_And you have a hand as well. Just remember to turn the recorder off before you use it."_

_He twisted at the hip, shouting in her direction, "don't worry, I wouldn't give you the pleasure anyway!" _

_When he turned back, his face was flushed. He mimicked her words in a quiet, whining tone before continuing his work_.

Jack had every microt of the feed memorized, even the silent quarter arn of adjustments that followed Aeryn's brief appearance. John's every facial tick, every flippant comment – all were known so well to him that he was confident he could reenact the entire feed to near duplicity.

Now he would see the living man. And maybe even Earth one day. He laughed suddenly at the prospect. It was almost too much to imagine.

Exiting the waste receptacle, he saw Aeryn sitting on a wall-bench, her hands clasped together in her lap, staring obliquely at the transport's floor. She looked tired and careworn all of a sudden, her eyes darkened beneath a labored brow.

"Are you okay?" Jack asked, sitting across from her.

She offered a small grin, surfacing from her thoughts. "I'm fine, son."

"It's catching up with you, isn't it?"

"What?"

"The solar day's events." They hadn't even seen a casualty manifesto yet.

She nodded. "Must be."

He eyed her for a moment. No. It was something else.

"Anything you want to tell me?" he asked.

She raised her eyes for a moment, then looked back down. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just a little nervous."

_That_ he understood. "Yeah -- I'll have to change again if I keep sweating. At least you know the man already."

She closed her eyes for a moment, muscles tensing in her face. She took a deep breath and spoke.

"Jack -- it's been a long time since John and I have been together. A lot has changed in that time -- for both of us."

How did that matter? "Sure. That's understandable. I don't think it changes the basics, though. I mean, you were together once, you had me and he's my father – none of that changes with time."

"Yes," she muttered. "Crichton is and always will be your father." For a moment, she opened her mouth to speak, but no utterance came. He could see the battle within her, playing across the shadows of her face.

"Mom -- what is it?"

She kept her eyes on the floor, hesitating before speaking. Then she began, slowly.

"Love can be wonderful, son, but it can also be very cruel sometimes." Her words were labored. After a few microts, she looked up, her gaze direct and eyes glistening. "But no matter what happens -- this solar day or any time later -- just remember that no mother has ever been so lucky as me." She sniffled. "You're a gift to everyone who knows you, and if you're ever made to feel otherwise, remember that I love you, and let that be enough to keep your heart safe."

The pain in her tear-streaked face twisted at his insides. There was no one in the universe that could make her cry like that -- except for one. In an instant he was across the transport pod, sitting next to her, holding her shoulders squarely.

"What did he say to you?"

She shook her head, pushing him back gently to gather herself. "Nothing – it's not what he said. It's...it's nothing." She wiped her eyes, sniffling a few times before sitting up. "Just remember what I said." And just as fast as the pain had swept over her, it was gone, replaced by the usual set jaw and squared shoulders.

Jack knew better than to press her. She had done something just then that she considered necessary, and he would accept her words now and be ready to apply them later should a time come when they seemed appropriate. That was her manner of care. Be warned, be ready.

What in hezmana had he said to make her feel this way? It was hard to sit still now, his fingers digging into the fabric of his pants. He leaned back, steadying his breathing and looking across the pod at their reflections in the opposite window, both of them facing forward.

"I feel like I know the man," he said, "and I even love him, never having met him. And it seems like I've lived my whole life making choices based on what I think he would have done. And now, beyond the best of hopes, I get to actually meet him." He rubbed his hands over his thighs, then gripped his knees tightly. "But understand this, if it came down to a choice between you two, I would throw his eema out an airlock in a microt and never think back on it."

She laughed, a brief, quiet release. She didn't look up, but her smile met him squarely.

"I know, son. Thank-you."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I have a brother?"

"Yep," John answered, amused by Liz's incredulous expression, her blue eyes wide with disbelief.

"Are you sure?"

"The DNA comparisons have verified it, Ensign," Pilot interjected. "Jack is definitely the offspring of Commander Crichton."

"But they're not human," she said, looking shocked that such a thing hadn't been considered.

Pilot activated an image on the clamshell, two helical strands revolving side by side.

"Actually, the sequencing of the sebacean and human genomes are remarkably similar – identical really with the exception of a few divergent protein families on two of your chromosomes."

"That might explain the gland," John said. "Can you believe after scouring my module I couldn't find one trace of sebacean DNA? We've been dying to compare the sequences."

"Yes, it would be helpful to know exactly what the various domains coded for in both species," Pilot remarked. "By way of comparison..."

"Wait a minute!" Liz interrupted, blond strands wisping from her ponytail. "There are more important things going on here." She stalked back and forth, cupping her forehead in her palm.

John chuckled, reaching out for her shoulders. Ever the worrier.

"Come 'ere, hon," he said, holding her squarely before him. "It's a lot to take in, I know. I haven't met him yet either. Don't even know what he looks like."

"I offered to show some images," Pilot said.

"Aaahh!" John bawled out, halting him with a pointed finger. "Don't _ever_ tell me the sex of the baby."

"But you already know the gender, Crichton," Pilot answered, perplexed.

"You know what I mean."

Liz took a few moments and looked around the chamber. "The infamous 'Pilot's Chamber'," she said, eyes wide as she turned about.

"Better than the drawings?" John asked.

"Not even remotely similar."

John shrugged. "Never claimed to be an artist."

A series of beeps chirped from the console. "Commander, Aeryn and Jack have arrived on Moya."

The chill in his chest was instant. "Oh boy," he muttered, pacing suddenly. "Okay now, let's get it together here."

"Stop it," Liz chided, grabbing his arm. "You're making me nervous."

John wiped his sweaty palms over his pants. "Sorry, hon. I mean, what's there to be nervous about? We're all family here."

Her eyes widened, the challenge of processing that statement apparent in her expression. "Yeah, I guess so."

He rubbed absently at Liz's back, touching her more for his own comfort. His eyes seemed to be on the door forever, anticipating their arrival every second. A son. With Aeryn. Oh shit, he was already crying.

"Quick, give me that tissue," he said, clamoring for her pockets.

"Wait," she said, slapping his hand. "Don't take it all."

And just then the door opened.

He walked in first, tall and lean, a uniformed sculpture of a man. John lost his breath. He was magnificent – very much his mother's child, raven-headed and chiseled in the face. But the eyes – they were all his, no mistake in that. He slowed his pace at the walkway, Aeryn stepping in from behind him.

Aeryn looked at Liz for a moment, bowing her head in a curt nod, her small smile conveying approval. Then she looked into John's eyes, holding her chin high, proud and strong beside by her son. He wanted to hold her then more than ever, and tell her how proud he was of what she had accomplished.

_Just look at what you've become, Aeryn. Glorious._

They advanced to one another, smiles growing with every step. John and Jack finally faced one another, eyes meeting squarely. Jack looked so happy, maybe about to cry. That did it. John's eyes burned with tears, and he took Jack in a strong grasp and pulled him into a crushing embrace. All the cycles of wondering if this child was out here came crashing in at once. He was holding him now, feeling the realness in his arms. His joy burst out with crying laughter as he rocked him to and fro.

When they pulled apart, everyone was a wreck. Liz was on the last of the tissue, and Aeryn made no effort to dry her own tears. Jack and Liz looked at one another, each smiling brilliantly but not knowing exactly what to say.

Jack touched his chest, saying simply, "Jack."

"I can understand you," she answered, teary-eyed and laughing.

"We've got the microbes, too," John added.

They laughed a little more at the situation, taking time to exchange long-wanted looks.

"She's beautiful, John," Aeryn said, looking at Liz.

Liz smiled back. "So are you, Ms. Sun, as I've heard."

"Just 'Aeryn', Liz," she answered.

John took Jack by the shoulders again, holding him firm in his grasp. He was an inch, or maybe even two, taller. "Wow! Just look at you. We _have_ to get you on the department basketball team."

Jack looked at Aeryn quizzically for a moment, then nodded anyway.

"He would rather play with tools than balls," Aeryn said.

"Tools? Gah! You're _killin'_ me, here" John growled, giving him another hug. "My boy!"

Aeryn laughed, taking Jack's arm and speaking into his ear. "You'll get used to him. The microbes don't help much, I know."

"Commander!" Pilot called out. "Your ship just released a volley of fire."

Everyone rushed to the clamshell, watching the display.

"It's a warning shot, Pilot. The Dreadnaught's taken a position just outside your scanner range. They've been there the whole time. I gave orders to fire if they tried to press forward."

"A cowering Dreadnaught," Jack mused, shaking his head in apparent amazement. "I would've never thought it possible."

"It's not so complicated really," John shrugged. "All you need is 25th century nanotechnology and a marvelously sophisticated means of extracting fusion energy and _voila_, a Terra-class Starfighter."

Jack was absorbed in the vision of the ship. "So this is how you repelled the Scarran invasion."

John and Liz shook their heads simultaneously.

"That was an Earth- and moon-based defense battery," John answered. "We couldn't carry cannons that powerful."

"But we're working on it," Liz said.

"It's a beautiful ship," Jack said, his attention harnessed suddenly by another round of fire.

"We call her Terra-3," Liz said.

"Any other models?" Jack asked.

"One other complete vessel and another under construction," Liz replied. "This one's the first space-worthy model."

As brother and sister discussed the specs of the ship, John looked over at Aeryn, sharing a private moment for the first time since this fateful meeting's beginning. There was genuine satisfaction in her smile, and maybe a little relief even. It occurred to him suddenly that she must have had doubts about how this would unfold. He couldn't blame her.

"So," John said, smacking his hands together in a loud clap. "Shall we tour the ship?"

Jack perked up. "Definitely!"

"Come on," Liz said, taking Jack by the hand. "You don't wanna ride in a dinky old transport. We're taking the Corsair."

"What?" John barked. "I told you to take a transport over here."

"They were all assisting in medical and Leviathan restoration."

"Well be careful, hon. That thing'll get out from under you in a heartbeat."

"Sounds fun," Aeryn said. "When do I get a turn?"

They all walked through the corridors together on the way to the hangar. When they came to its entrance, John snagged Aeryn by the arm and pulled her into an alcove at the hangar's periphery.

"Hey," he whispered, pulling her close against him.

"Hey yourself," she grinned back.

"I wanted to say thank-you – and I'm sorry."

She shook her head, lowering her eyes to his chest. "You've nothing to be sorry for, Crichton."

"You're wrong. I do. You had one chance in this life to tell me about him. Now I may be angry that you didn't take it way back then, but I totally blew it when you did it in the here and now."

She kept shaking her head, staving off his apologies.

"No," he said. "I screwed it up good today. And I promise, I won't miss another thing."

That stopped her. He felt the rise and fall of her chest against him, hastening a bit. Her eyes remained at his chest.

"He loves you very much," she said. "He always has."

"And I won't let him down, Aeryn. He's my son."

And at that, she relaxed in his arms, her burdens cast off in an instant. She tightened her arms about his waist, nestling her cheek into his chest.

"Good, because I would've had to shoot you, otherwise."

"Yeah," he chuckled, hugging her tight. "I know."

"_Captain!_"

John raised his com, still holding Aeryn in the other arm. "Right here, Commander."

"_Two more Dreadnaughts have joined the peripheral vessel._"

Aeryn pulled back, her eyes alert.

"Are they moving in?" John asked.

"_Negative – they're holding position._"

"I'm on the way," John answered, pocketing his com. He rubbed briskly over Aeryn's arms. "I've gotta see to that."

She nodded. "And I should get things organized here on Moya."

"All right. Let's get a formation plan together in the next hour. We should all move out as soon as possible."

"Many won't be able to Starburst."

"We may be able to help with that," John answered. "In the meantime, let's figure out who can move and who can't. We've got a few tugs for the crippled."

They walked from the alcove and stopped at the inner corridor.

"John," Aeryn said, just as they were parting. She stared for a moment, her eyes seeking assurance.

He understood.

"He'll be fine, babe. He's got lots of new toys to play with over there."

She seemed satisfied with that, contentment in her small grin as she walked off into Moya's inner workings.

John turned and walked to the hangar's center where his transport awaited, guards forming around him as he advanced. The Leviathan factor added a significant challenge to the mission. But he couldn't just leave them to fend for themselves. At any rate, all parties would be served by the mission's primary goal: cripple the Scarran forces and make it clear that Earth and its surrounding space were off-limits. This scourge would have to be marginalized if they were ever going to marshal the forces needed to fend off the inevitable arrival of the horror the Ancients were fleeing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Aeryn stood on Moya's Command deck, hands at her hips and eyes forward on the visual -- the Earth ship, Terra-3, advancing into the wormhole before them. As it moved into the mouth of the swirling funnel, the inner diameter of the wormhole expanded around the ship, cycling in perfect balance.

"_All right, Aeryn. We'll hold here while you form in around us,_" John commed.

"Understood," she answered, turning to her comms officer. "Contact Gilbin."

The officer nodded, complying.

"_Officer Sun,_" came Gilbin's voice through the Command speakers. "_Are we ready?_"

"Affirmative," she replied. "Let's move up to one quarter-hetch. And watch your cables on the acceleration. He's heavy."

Aeryn turned to an adjacent clamshell displaying a visual of Moya's aft. Galen's battered hulk hovered in the space behind them, attached to Moya by a series of cables. At Moya's flank, Jango moved in unison, aiding in the tow of the massive Leviathan.

"Braca," Aeryn said. "Be ready to reverse thrust when we slow on the other side. We don't have much room for you to drift."

"_Given that it's the only operational thrust we have, I should be able to manage its activation,_" Braca commed back.

"_Just don't creep up on our eemas, Captain_," Gilbin quipped.

"_You're one to talk._"

"Pay attention!" Aeryn bawled over them. "We're moving in now."

Ahead of them, other Leviathans moved in alongside Terra-3, some taking position at its fore and others along its flanks. Many of the wounded Leviathans were being towed by the healthier ones while others were pulled along by smaller tug ships from Terra-3's maintenance fleet. As they advanced, the funnel's walls swelled outward around the massive central vessel as if to accommodate their passage.

"_The Dreadnaughts are moving closer,_" John said. "_Let's pick it up a bit._"

The fact that the Scarrans had remained relatively close to their position for the last twenty arns was a worrisome thing. What kind of intel had they been able to gather during that time? They had hardly moved -- opting rather to sit quietly and watch. Under any other circumstance, such unfettered reconnoitering would never have been permitted. Aeryn was certain this would cost them somewhere down the line.

As Moya moved into the rim of the wormhole, the walls and floors of Command fell awash in shimmering blue luminescence. The slow speed of their advance afforded more than ample time for thorough observation of the innards of the phenomenon, frightening in the immensity of its size but beautiful nonetheless. Amazement was apparent in the faces of all the crewmembers throughout Command, the heavenly cast flickering in their wide-eyed stares.

Wormholes. They had been the bane of Aeryn's existence for all the cycles she and John spent together. At first, they spat out the curse that ended her life with the Peacekeepers, although this sentiment was shortly-lived. Then, they threatened to steal away her new and secretly-cherished companion. But after that, they became the impetus for the relentless pursuit of John and everyone in his company.

Her mixed experiences made wormholes a difficult thing for her to process -- a majestic phenomenon on one hand, able to deliver wonders from across the universe, but a terrible weapon of destruction on the other. The latter attribute had cost one John his life in an attempt to prevent its use in such a manner. Now, the other John seemed to be casting them across space at will as if he were in full possession of them, holding the beasts by their reins. It seemed the very walls spread out before him like a procession bowing before its Emperor.

Aeryn drew in a deep breath and sighed. It was a coupling she found wholly unsettling.

"All Leviathans are within the funnel," the navigator announced.

"Dreadnaughts are accelerating!" said the radar officer.

"Crichton?!" Aeryn called out.

"_We see them_," he replied. "_Keep steady. We're firing through the formation._"

A volley of fiery, red blasts shot forth from Terra-3's aft, whizzing over Moya and through the caravan. There must have been twenty bursts in that series, enough to rip a frigate in half. Microts later, another series passed across their bow, speeding along a slightly different trajectory.

"They've taken evasive actions," the radar officer said. "Two are veering away from the wormhole. The third appears to be in an uncontrolled advance...drifting off-center into the funnel. They must've been hit."

Aeryn snapped her head to the aft display. The battered Dreadnaught of the previous solar day's encounter entered the wormhole. The funnel was considerably less stable at the entrance where the fleet had already passed. The Dreadnaught was yawing heavily to its hammond side, drifting gradually towards the wormhole's inner wall. Microts later, the wall shifted, lapping a wave of blue energy across the vessel's hammond-side fore. Gasps and caught breaths broke the silence in Command. In the area across the vessel where the wave passed, there was nothing – only a gaping wound and open decks at the edges of the missing chunk. Thousands of motras of the ship's surface and innards were swept away in an instant, simply disappearing into nothingness. Hopelessly out of control, the Dreadnaught was eaten alive, piece by piece, by the lapping surges of the wormhole's inner surface until it was swallowed finally by the rolling field of energy.

_Cholak!_ It was a terrible thing to witness. Aeryn knew she should rejoice at the death of their attackers, but this display garnered no such feeling. It was one thing to see an enemy fall at the violence of her own hand, but seeing life smote out this way – it was too cold, and much too easy – total destruction on a massive scale, delivered instantly in a flippant whim. These were the hands of the gods, if ever there were any, and such power should never be wielded by mortals lest the universe itself become a force of its own rapid destruction.

After a couple of macrots, the caravan emerged on the other side of the wormhole, spreading out into a new formation within a dense gas cloud, asteroids and smaller rocks scattered throughout. The cover was adequate to block both photo and radio probing, and the electromagnetic interference would prevent anyone from detecting the wormhole within the cloud. For the moment, this was a suitable place to hide.

"_We're steady now_," Braca announced. "_Disengaging cables._"

"_As are we,_" Gilbin answered.

Aeryn nodded to the helm officer, effecting Moya's release.

"Glad you made it through, Braca," she said. "We'll be moving off to continue working on Veleon now."

"_Understood,_" he answered. "_But do me a favor and have Velorek come to Galen when he's finished there_."

Aeryn paused, brows furrowing. "I didn't realize he was on Veleon. I assumed he was with you."

"_No, he was insistent that he get to work on the gunship. I know the vessel's in bad shape, but it seems mis-prioritized. We've got a lot of important systems that need repair here_."

"Right," she sighed, rubbing her eyes. "I'll let him know." Of course he was tending to Veleon. Where else would he be? Suddenly, she felt trapped by the unsolicited courtesy.

_Please don't make this hard for me, Velorek._[

"_Hey babe_," her com chirped.

Everyone on Command turned and looked, curious eyes belying the customary impassivity of the deck crew.

Aeryn met their looks with a quick sneer and exited to the corridor. She moved a few paces down the hall and leaned her shoulder into the wall.

"Hello, John."

"_What 'cha doin'?_"

"Oh, just basking in the afterglow of your wormhole. And you?"

He sighed, her com speaker distorting with the whoosh of his breath. She pulled it away from her head, recalling her annoyance at his tendency to hold the mouthpiece too close.

"_Just tryin' to shut this baby down,_" he answered.

"Hmm," she grunted brusquely.

They were silent for a moment, the staccato of rapid button-pressing thumping through the com.

"_You okay?_" he asked.

"We're fine."

"_I asked about __**you**__, Aeryn._"

"And I'm fine, I said. Just a little tired, that's all."

"_When's the last time you slept?_"

"I don't know, two solar days ago, maybe?" She tried not to think of Velorek's image, recalling little slumber from that sleep cycle.

"_Well relax -- get some sleep. You guys should be safe here for the time being_."

"What?" she snapped, standing away from the wall. "Are you leaving?"

"_Yeah – for a little while._"

"Why?"

"_We're doing a work-up on a Kalish colony. It supports several docking stations and construction platforms in low orbit. Turns out the fleet that came to Earth originated there._"

She huffed. "If this is about revenge, let me remind you that the encounter hardly ended in their favor. If anything..."

"_It's not about revenge, Aeryn. It's about sending a message._"

"What message?"

"_Don't mess with Texas – not in my backyard – beware of dog._"

"Crichton!" she growled. "I know the colony you're talking about. If it's Nalthan, you're completely fahrbot! There are hundreds of planet-side batteries. Big guns. Never mind the defense fleet."

"_We won't be in there long._"

'You're right. You'll be torn apart before you fire your second shot."

"_Aeryn..._"

"No, John!" she snapped. "You've just come back to us. There's no way I'm going to sit by and watch you squander your life on some idiotic show of bravado. Now get over here this instant so I can beat some frelling sense into you!"

He laughed. "_Sounds fun. Can we take a rain check?_"

Cholak, the Earth man and his laughing! "Where's Jack?!"

"_He's on his way back to Moya,_" John replied, his tone sobering suddenly. "_I wouldn't take him into this without your approval._"

"But you'll take yourself, just fine." She shook her head. "No. If you're going, then you get over here and say good-bye first. Come say it to my face." All she needed was a chance to get her hands on him, the frellnik.

"_We don't say good-byes, Aeryn._"

"Don't get clever with me, Crichton!"

"_Wow_," he muttered. "_You really are a mom._"

She lowered the com for a moment, clawing at the skin of her chin. _Try to be reasonable. Reasonable. Reasonable_. Sighing, she spoke again.

"Call this thing off, John. I'm certain we can come up with a better plan together."

"_Look, we have special ordinance for this. I wouldn't risk our lives haphazardly. My daughter's on this ship, for cyrin' out loud._"

"And what kind of intel do you have to go on?"

There was brief pause. "_Mmm...not a whole lot, really. But that shouldn't be an issue._"

"What the frell are you talking about, Crichton? How can charging blind into one of the most fortified Scarran positions not be an issue?"

"_Aeryn, please. We've really gotta go. Just trust me. Jack will explain when he gets there. You'll see. Everything's gonna be okay. I'll be back in a day or so. I promise_."

"No! Don't you cut me off! Crichton? Answer me! John?"

Silence.

"Frell!" she yelled, rearing back with her com in hand. She was just about to launch it when Pilot chimed in.

"Officer Sun?"

"What is it, Pilot?" she answered, hair whipping across her face with the caught throw.

"Jack has returned to Veleon with supplies from the Earth vessel. Moya would like to interface with him again and filter his transport fluids before they start infusing nutrients."

"Go ahead, Pilot. I'm headed there myself. Can we deploy the bridging tube yet?"

"I believe so. Pressure has been restored to Veleon's airlock deck."

"Excellent," Aeryn said, stalking off down the corridor. "Any more ship-to-ship travel and I'll be babbling with transit madness."

Macrots later, Aeryn walked into Veleon's darkened corridors. DRDs scrambled about, providing brief snatches of light from their illuminated eyestalks. Many areas were impassable, the hallways occluded by fallen support structures and thick snags of drooping cables. Carefully, she tread through the manageable debris, wary of live wires and loose structures overhead.

She understood well the pain of a wound. But this, the sheer enormity of the destruction – it was unimaginable what this poor creature was enduring. Leviathans felt pain just as Sebaceans did. If only Zhan were here to share the terrible burden.

Aeryn stopped for a moment and palmed the damp surface of the corridor wall.

"Be strong, Veleon. We'll all walk in the garden again one day soon. I promise."

Dead silence. No vibration. She trailed her fingertips along the wall as she moved down the corridor.

Eventually, she emerged into a populated area of the vessel. Techs worked feverishly to restore functions vital to Veleon's survival. Down the corridor, she heard Velorek shouting instructions to some workers on a lower deck. Footsteps scrambled her way, matching the advance of his voice. When he emerged into the chamber, his words trailed off into quiet utterance. He held her in his sights for a moment, frozen where he stood, shirt ripped and body covered in the grime of his labors.

Suddenly, he snapped his eyes away and walked over to an adjacent table. He rifled noisily through some tools on the tabletop and began stuffing them into a bag, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing with the snapping motions.

"I'm glad to see you're alive," he grumbled.

"Look, I apologize for not contacting you. I've barely sat since I saw you last."

"A simple acknowledgement that you were okay, Aeryn. That's all I would've wanted."

"I'm sorry, but reassuring people of my safety was the last thing on my mind."

"Am I 'people' then?"

"Don't be like this."

"I left message after message, Aeryn – and you couldn't do me the simple courtesy of a text transmission?" He shook his head, continuing to stuff the bag. "You really don't care, do you?"

"That's enough!" she yelled. "You've had a job to do and so have I. And it's nowhere close to being over. We're both alive, and that'll just have to be enough for now."

In the corner of her eye, Aeryn caught a glimpse of Jack walking into the chamber, eyeing them briefly before turning on his heels and exiting again.

"Hold it, Jack!" Velorek shouted. "I need your help in the neural cluster."

Jack padded back into the room, hands clasped behind his back. "Shall I run ahead and get things started then?"

"No," he answered, looking briefly at Aeryn before throwing the bag over his shoulder. "I'm coming with you now. Let's go."

"You're needed on Galen, Velorek," Aeryn said. "Jack and I can take care of things here. Braca made the request personally."

He stopped in the doorway. "Is that an order?"

"Would you follow it?"

"No."

"Then _I'm_ asking. Please see to their needs."

He shook his head, snorting a brief, bitter chuckle. "Well I guess that's it then." He turned around and released the bag, the bundle of tools clanging on the metal floor. "I've never been able to say 'no' to you, have I?" He walked a few paces down the corridor.

"Velorek...," she called.

He paused, looking sidelong.

"I'll come to you as soon as I can. I promise."

He looked down briefly, seeming like he might speak, but then proceeded down the corridor, disappearing around the corner.

"Frelling men," Aeryn muttered.

Jack threw a flippant wave towards the corridor and laid back across the table, his feet dangling from the end. "Let it go. He's tired – you're tired – we're all farbot from exhaustion."

"I should've contacted him, though" Aeryn said.

"Funny, I don't recall you hearing from _him_ since this began," Jack replied.

"My com was damaged in the attack. I'm sure he tried to reach me through other channels."

"Whatever the case, I think we both know what this is really about – a new breetlevox bristling in the burrow, as they say."

"Well this burrow's about to get filled in if behaviors don't improve."

Jack twisted at the hip and raised on his elbow, brow cocked in query.

"Crichton," she hissed. "He's completely mad."

"How so?"

"Going to Nalthan -- one ship against an armada. What in the hezmana are the Earthlings thinking?"

"You don't know what that ship can do. Trust me, it's a fair fight."

"I don't care what kind of power they have. They'll be fired on from every direction. Nothing can repel that kind of assault."

"That's just the thing," Jack said, snapping upright on the table's edge. "They can never be flanked."

"Why not?"

"Because they attack from within the wormhole. Anything tries to come at them and," _SMACK_, he clapped his hands together, eyes lighting up. "They simply draw the curtain closed on their attackers, then throw it open again to fire."

The zeal in his words turned her stomach.

"They use wormholes as weapons," she grumbled. "And this pleases you?"

"When Scarrans are on the receiving end – yes, it does."

"Well, I guess he died for nothing, then," she snapped, walking towards the door.

"You're wrong," Jack said, pushing himself off the table and following. "If there were ever a people able to wield this technology responsibly, it's them."

"No – _you're_ wrong. I've seen what Earthlings are capable of. Should something happen to Crichton, I fear for everyone in this galaxy."

"He's not the only one with a clear vision."

"Military is military wherever you go, Jack. They're no different."

"Then go see for yourself. That ship is a war machine in pristine condition, at the peak of its service life, and guess who has the authority there."

She paused for a moment, turning back.

"Techs," he continued. "No decorated soldiers, no commandos, just techs. It's actually the military who serves _them_. To even have a position in command you're required to carry the title of 'dok-tor'. And you know what gets you that? Education. Learning. Not a killing record."

"I know what a 'doctor' is in their world," Aeryn bristled. However, the idea of constructing a command hierarchy in this way piqued her interest. It was completely opposite from the Peacekeeper arrangement where techs were relegated to second-tier lifestyles beneath members of the military culture. But when she imagined a bunch of Crichtons leading a military campaign, she almost laughed aloud.

"You gathered all of this from one solar day's visit?" she asked.

He nodded, mouth hanging absently. "I didn't sleep one wink. I rode trains on that ship, and still I didn't see it all."

"Why is it so enormous?"

"My understanding is, it's built to maintain the species should something happen to Earth. There are whole decks set aside for Earth animals and vegetation, too. The plan is to make an entire caravan."

"Noah's ark," Aeryn muttered.

"What?"

"It's an Earth story. An old man built a ship to escape rising waters, covering all the land. On it, he took some beasts to repopulate the planet when the water receded." She rubbed her chin. "But still, why would they make such preparations? With the Ancients helping, it's clear they can protect Earth from the worst we have to offer."

"It does seem a bit overkill," Jack acknowledged. "I hadn't thought to ask about that."

"Well I hope you get a chance to," Aeryn replied, moving down the corridor again.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They spent the next several arns splicing nerves in the neural cluster. When there was a break in the repairs, Aeryn slept on the hard floor beneath a run of pipes. It was the best sleep she had gotten in a long while. She awoke to Jack's hand at her shoulder, jostling her from slumber.

"Mom. Mom, wake up."

Aeryn sat up from beneath the pipes, squinting against the brightness of the overhead light.

"Crichton?" she groaned.

Squatting beside her, Jack adjusted some knobs on his transmission descrambler. "You won't believe the chatter."

Aeryn listened to the various feeds coming through the little speakers. Luxan, Nebari, Halosian – dozens of languages chomped into the signal space, all buzzing about the raid on Nalthan.

"_...there's nothing left..."_

"_...attacked by sebaceans...raided a science vessel..."_

"_...just opened on top of them...never saw it coming..." _

"_...now's the time...we should all move in."_

Aeryn's eyes snapped open wide. That last voice...

"D'Argo!" she gasped.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three solar days had passed since the raid on Nalthan, and only now had Terra-3 returned to the Leviathan caravan. Aeryn paced across the open floor of Moya's terrace, watching the Earth ship emerge from the newly formed wormhole. It was a distant visual, but something was different. Across the forward section, darker patches were splattered against the gray-white surface.

"Pilot? Have they been damaged?"

"_Yes – they've got numerous blast sites over the fore hull. They're contacting Galen now._"

"Do they need help?"

"_I'll know in a moment._"

As the ship moved in closer, the details of the damage became more clear -- standard frag cannon blasts, sixteen impacts by her count. The ship wore them well, moving strong and true, but she knew all too well what the impact was like on the affected decks. There were surely casualties.

The ship came to rest within the scatter of Leviathans, numerous lights shutting down along the hull. They too would be tending wounds for a while.

"_Officer Sun_," Pilot commed. "_I'm patching a private transmission through to you._"

"I'm listening."

"_Aeryn,_" Liz's voice chirped through. "_We're sorry for the delay in returning._"

"That's alright, Liz. Are you in need of assistance?"

"_Negative_," she answered. "_But Dad's in the damaged decks now. He asked me to contact you and see if you could come over. We gathered some intel during the raid. Can I send a transport?_"

"That won't be necessary. I'll come in my Prowler."

"_Understood. I'll arrange for your arrival._"

"Liz, is it bad?"

She was quiet for a moment. "_It's definitely worse than it was before we left. But I don't know how bad 'bad' can get. You'll see when you arrive._"

This was probably her first serious altercation in space where the damage was reciprocal. Aeryn pitied the young woman. If this was all she knew of battle damage, there was much for her to learn and endure.

"I'm on my way, Liz. See you within the arn."

"_Very good. I'll meet you in the first level starboard hangar. Look for the green runner lights._"

"See you there." Aeryn stalked off towards the inner corridor. "Pilot, have the DRDs prep my prowler. I'll be in the hangar in ten macrots."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Aeryn powered down the engines of her Prowler, bringing it to a halt over a rounded segment set within the landing bay's floor. Behind her, massive doors slid together, closing the passage to open space.

"_We're clamping your vessel down, Officer Sun,_" commed the deck officer.

Feeling a sudden jerk beneath her, she raised her head to look across the deck as it came up around her, the platform upon which she sat sinking downward. Red runner lights illuminated the vertical passage during her descent, casting a lurid crimson glow across the instrument panel. Above her, a sphincter valve closed the passage above, clinching inward to a perfect seal. Suddenly, her flight suit clung heavily to her skin as she felt the weight of her own body again. Gravity.

Just then, the walls of the vertical chute gave way to a wide expanse. It was the hangar bay, and the floor must have been a hundred motras below. In size, it easily rivaled and likely surpassed the bays on the largest Command Carriers. All around her, the orb-like fighters seen in the Scarran battle were suspended from the hangar's vaulted heights, arranged in linear fashion along the latticework of an enormous conveyor system. They were much larger than her original estimation, her Prowler's length barely reaching half their diameter.

As the platform lowered to the deck, Aeryn noticed a small crowd assembling at the base of the elevator's column. Liz stood in front of them, urging the gatherers to move back. When the descent finally halted, Liz climbed onto the Prowler's runner board and looked through the cockpit window, her eyes taken by the instruments and displays. The air hissed with the hatch's opening.

"Would you like to take it out sometime?" Aeryn asked.

"I'd love it," Liz answered, running her hand over the cockpit's interior. "It's a beautiful craft. Looks menacing."

"I've always liked it. This one's got a lot of cycles, though."

"You've kept it well."

Liz jumped to the deck, making way for Aeryn to exit the Prowler.

Once on the ground, Aeryn took a moment to absorb the surrounding sights. The first thing she noticed were the faces of all the humans looking back at her. Many nodded curtly when her eyes passed theirs. Some even smiled.

"These are some of the acquaintances Jack made while he was here," Liz said, looking back across the faces. "He spent several hours on the hangar deck. I told him not to bother the crew, but he kept talking to them. Before I knew it, he was stuck up in the machine panels alongside 'em."

"He's a fine boy, ma'am," said a burly, dark-headed man. "Knows his tools."

"And talks right at'cha" said another man. "Looks you in the eye. He's a real fella."

Their was so much variety in their appearance -- contrasting skin colors and facial features, differences in hair texture – eyes that sprang forth from the face and others set so deep you could hardly tell there were orbs within the lids.

"Can you understand them?" Liz whispered.

Aeryn blinked, realizing suddenly she was staring. She reached for words.

"Oh...yes. Thank-you." Suddenly, she wished something would come along and steal away their attention.

The burly man turned to face the others. "Well let's quit starin' at the lady like a bunch of voyeurs and get back to work." He looked over with a quick nod, "welcome aboard, ma'am."

Aeryn watched the crowd disperse, nodding as they departed. Once they were gone, she asked, "they're all human aren't they?"

"Of course," Liz answered, looking perplexed. "Why do you ask?"

"Their features…I don't know. I figured with John looking so much like a Sebacean…"

"You mean the different races? Some don't match the appearance of sebaceans?"

"No. The skin on some, the eyes on others – humans are much more diverse than I thought."

"Hmm – interesting," Liz mused. "I figured a species as spread out as yours would express even more phenotypical fractions. Then again, countless generations have probably passed since your people had to adapt to the elements."

Liz's words were lost in Aeryn's mind with the abrupt recall of the charred smears seen across the ship during her approach. "How bad is the damage?" she asked.

Liz took a few steps and gestured for Aeryn to follow. "Systemically, not serious. But the affected decks will take some time to repair. Looks like we'll be doing a quick-seal and finishing the job at home."

"I told John you would be overwhelmed," Aeryn grumbled, doing little to hide her scorn.

"At Nalthan? No," Liz shook her head, "they never touched us."

"This didn't occur during the raid?"

"No, we were ready then. It was afterwards when they surprised us."

"Who?"

"Scarrans we think, but we're not sure exactly. After the raid, we pursued a fleeing science vessel. When we caught up with them, we deployed a raiding party. There wasn't much resistance -- Kalish mostly, and a few Scarrans."

"What did you find?" Aeryn asked.

"That's what's being analyzed now. We only got a partial download before the attack occurred. One thing we know for sure, though -- there were numerous references to Earth in their databanks."

"I'm not surprised. They had an interest in Crichton cycles ago."

"Yeah, maybe. Funny thing is, though – they somehow had very accurate and detailed records of our flora and fauna – the kind of information that could only be gathered through very careful survey."

"You think they're planted there?"

"That's obviously our main concern." Liz took a sharp right through the maze of maintenance craft and led them down some stairs. Once on the lower level, they stepped onto a conveyor walkway and continued onward into a corridor. The enhanced speed brought a welcome flow of air to Aeryn's face.

"What about your attackers?" Aeryn asked.

"They appeared on top of us without warning and blasted us across the bow. They destroyed the science vessel, too. We lost the entire boarding crew."

"How did you miss their approach?"

"They were cloaked. No radar or visual detection."

"That's a lot of damage for a small ship to inflict."

"There was nothing small about it. When they popped up on us, the ship was all we could see for a few seconds. They may be as large as us."

"No vessel that size could cloak."

"It's possible...theoretically," Liz shrugged. "Actually executing a distortion that large is another matter, though."

They emerged from the corridor into another open expanse, crossing the enormous space along a suspended walkway. Below, there were roughly one-hundred space craft positioned uniformly across the floor -- sleek silver bodies shimmering in the light with wings swept back and solidly triangulated into the fuselages. Aeryn walked backwards on the moving walkway, holding her current position, her eyes set fast on the ships below.

"What are these?" she asked.

"Those are the Corsairs. They're the only piloted fighter craft we have," Liz answered, pacing in place beside her.

"This is what you brought over to Moya?"

Liz nodded. "Dad doesn't like me to fly them much. They're still in a developmental stage. They can be a bit testy, especially when the inertial dampeners aren't cooperating."

"All right," Aeryn said, eyes set on Liz in serious regard. "I _must_ fly one of these as soon as possible."

Liz nodded, chuckling. "That's already been arranged. Dad said you'd probably get stuck in this hangar."

"He knows me well." Aeryn continued down the walkway, taking a final glance back at the Corsairs. "So the other craft -- the orbs -- they're automated?"

"Yes and no. Most of the time they're controlled by our central computer, but they can be flown remotely by a ship-board 'pilot', as well."

"Then why have these other fighters?"

"Because Dad insists on it. Almost all of the technology that the Ancients have adapted for us is automated, robotic. It's their way. But Dad thinks we should stay connected. We can't pull the kinds of G's in a Corsair that the Battle Globes can, even with inertial dampeners, but an autonomous fighter can improvise where a computer can't."

"Good," Aeryn said. "That's the answer I wanted to hear."

They spent the next several macrots traveling in elevators and snaking through various corridors. Everyone they passed nodded, their protracted looks an indication of recognition when they caught Aeryn's eyes. What they knew of her, she wasn't sure, but it was clear they had more familiarity with her than she did with them. It was a hard thing to be comfortable with.

They came to a door and stopped. John's voice boomed from within.

"I don't care! Just vent the debris and close the bulkhead at the damage's edge. This is ridiculous!"

"The heat warped the walls. It's impossible to get a seal that close," a woman's voice answered. "We're gonna have to block it further in."

"Great!" John replied, his voice coming closer to the door. "At this rate we'll all be huddled in the ship's center when we get home."

The door opened then, presenting one of the most careworn visages of Crichton she had ever seen. His uniform shirt was half-untucked, the buttons undone to the middle of his chest, and the elastic collar of the t-shirt beneath stretched and drooping. The redness in his eyes betrayed his fatigue, despite his sudden grin.

"You're about to let me have it, aren't you?" he asked.

He deserved it, the frellnik. And she would've given it to him if she weren't feeling the urge to hug him just then.

"You're alive," she replied, finding it hard not to smile. "At least there's something to be thankful for."

He leaned into the door jamb, sighing raggedly. His eyes danced over her face and head for a moment, contentment surfacing in his tired face. She knew that sentiment well, feeling the same inner-warmth at the mere sight of him.

"Go for a walk?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Liz spoke briefly to John before entering the chamber, closing the door behind her. Once they were alone, John stepped in behind Aeryn, placing his hand at the small of her back, urging her gently down the corridor. They walked a few paces before she touched him in kind, snaking her arm around his waist. He pulled her closer then, the two of them leaning into one another's weight as they walked along.

"That was pretty damn scary," he said.

Aeryn nodded, rubbing her hand along his side as she listened. He needed a lecture on reckless abandon, but now wasn't the time.

"They've come a long way since I was here," he continued. "You should've seen the size of that ship."

"Did you capture a visual?"

"Oh yeah. It's something in a Dreadnaught class, but definitely next generation. Damn thing just popped up on us one second and was gone the next."

The thought sickened her. The caravan's only defense had been the ability to starburst with sufficient warning. Now, the only edge they had was gone.

"Liz said you recovered some data -- about Earth," Aeryn said.

"Yeah," he sighed, fret in his tone. "I don't know what to make of that. They're definitely after something, though."

"It seems they want a stake in every known world. Frelling Scarrans."

"Yeah, but they _really_ wanted something from Earth. The science vessel we raided was a laboratory destined for Earth-orbit. And the funny thing is, it was set up for botany."

"Botany?"

"Plants, you know -- trees, flowers, grass and all that."

"Yeah, I know -- it just seems a strange adjunct to conquest."

"We're looking into it."

They stopped at a row of large, rectangular machines -- the one before them displaying an image of a steaming, dark beverage.

"Coffee?" he asked.

Coffee. How many first meals had she been forced to endure his whining over not having this beverage?

"Thank Dacon, you finally found some."

He laughed, pressing a button on the machine. "I forgot about that. You were pretty sick of hearing about it, weren't you?"

"Sick would be an understatement. You acted like it was new information every solar morning. Did you ever find that 'choklat' dren?"

His face lit up. "That's right! You've never had chocolate." He moved down to another machine and pressed three different buttons. "You've _got_ to try this."

Three colorfully-wrapped rations fell into the tray below. John reached into the dispenser and snatched them up, sorting through them as he mumbled.

"Reese's? Yeah…wait. No, whatchamacallit." He shook his head. "Then again, it might be better if you had it plain first. Yeah…that's how we'll do it." He held a dark brown rectangular package out.

"Here, babe -- the one and only Hershey's." His blue eyes were alight, brilliant with his smile. He reminded her of Jack as a child when he found some new fascination.

She took the package from his hand and unwrapped it, peeling back the reflective material from the dark, waxy substance. She smelled it, glancing circumspectly.

"Come on, just eat it," he goaded.

"Alright -- just a microt." She broke off a small corner piece and placed it tentatively in her mouth. It was sweet -- very sweet. And soft. The surface became viscous on her tongue, bringing out the rich, strange flavor. Slowly, she chewed the little morsel, her eyes widening with the fullness of the taste experience.

"It's good." She bit into the whole bar, taking a full quarter at once. "Really frelling good, actually," her words garbled by the mouthful of chocolate.

"Man – to be a first-timer," he mused, ripping the orange pack open. "Now try these."

Aeryn ate the round, serrated disks – Reese's was it? -- then followed them with the crunchy ration. The different textures and flavors were perfect complements to the rich, chocolate taste. When the rations were gone, Aeryn looked back to the dispenser.

"That's just the beginning," John smiled, loading up again from the vending machine. They walked to a table at a nearby alcove, sitting close together.

In addition to the sweet delicacies, they tried more savory things -- doritos, cheetos, and nabs. All of these were washed down with mountain dew, not a fitting name for a fluid the color of engine coolant, but tasty nonetheless. They finished it off with coffee, a beverage wholly unsatisfying after the other taste pleasures. And during it all, John described the many other foods she should try, though he never remarked on a context where this would occur. Still, it was good to hear him speak of the elements of his world again, the act itself always more appreciated than the literal meaning in his words. Such offerings were what drew her to him in the beginning – his unguarded self-presentation, completely open and eager to be known. In her mind, it was ignorance at first that drove his behavior. Then it was naivety. But as time passed, she began to perceive it as innocence -- a thing of real peace, not the kind enforced with power. Accordingly, the need to protect him became the most important charge in her life, the keeping of such peace worth everything to her.

But the innocence spread, infecting her, and she began to turn her back to the dangers as well, getting lost with him in the shroud of their love. It was the happiest she had ever been, the moments when there was nothing else but the two of them. He took her to a place where crying and laughter happened at once, and neither were signs of weakness. No. It was just the opposite. To become that way with someone was the ultimate act of courage. To show everything of yourself to another, unguarded – protected only by your trust in them.

And John had met her there beautifully.

"...but you can also _fry_ a turkey. It's delicious, but the folks working the burn units aren't crazy about it."

Aeryn snapped her attention to his words, eyes blinking suddenly.

"You okay, babe?" he asked.

"Yes," she muttered. "I was just thinking." Looking at him there, the feelings from those cycles were all coming back at once. She could almost imagine they were there again, faring through space on Moya, surrounded by cherished companions...

"D'Argo!" she blurted.

"Huh?"

She slapped her hand over his wrist. "Just a couple of solar days ago, we were listening in on all the transmissions following the raid. One of them was D'Argo!"

"What?! Really?"

She nodded. "I know it was him."

"What did he say?"

"Something to the effect of moving against the Scarrans and taking advantage of their losses."

"Where is he?"

"No idea. We couldn't isolate the transmission long enough to know."

"D'Argo," John grinned, eyes cast aside. "Man I'd love to find him." Thoughts played across his face for a moment. "Does he know you and Moya are in this caravan?"

"Doubtful," she replied. "We've had almost no outside contact for cycles. You never know where the spies and bounty hunters are."

"Sure, makes sense." He thought for a moment. "You said the Luxans were in a civil war. What's behind it?"

"Two factions – one conciliatory to the Scarrans and the other not. You can imagine which side D'Argo's on."

"The one that's rebelling and losing, I'd guess."

"Of course."

John thumped his fingers on the table. "Maybe we should make an overture. Let them know it's us raisin' cane. That should ferret him out."

"You mean to propose an alliance?" she asked, face brightening.

He hesitated for a moment, biting at the tip of his thumb. "Don't think we can go that far."

"But you're working to the same end."

"Maybe – maybe not. Either way, I wouldn't wanna give 'em a false sense of hope."

Aeryn leaned in. "John, you've already done that. Destroying the Nalthan operation, the productivity of the Scarran war machine's been cut by at least a fifth. Resisters from all over are looking to fall in with you, and the funny thing is, they think it's us."

He opened his hand beneath hers and turned her palm up, grazing his fingertips over the thick, calloused surface. He traced the lines of her palm, tickling the creases worn by joint flexion.

"That's the lifeline," he said. He opened his hand, showing her the comparable crease on his own palm, running from just beneath the pointer finger and around the thumb joint towards the wrist. "See – yours is longer than mine."

A lifeline. Five fingers. Skin the same as hers.

"Amazing, isn't it?" he asked.

"Always has been." She loved the feel of his touch and the idea of relishing in their likeness, but it was clear he was avoiding something.

"John."

"Hmm?"

"Why are you here?"

He kept his eyes down. "I told you. To send a message."

"And then?"

His eyes darkened beneath a gathered brow. It seemed he wanted to speak, but couldn't bring his sights to her.

"You're leaving aren't you," she said.

He hesitated, then muttered, "eventually, yes."

Aeryn withdrew her hand slowly and sat back in the chair. "And what's the endpoint of your mission?"

He sighed. "The demonstration of 'unequivocal space superiority'."

"Which you made known at Nalthan."

He nodded. "But then there was the run-in with that ship."

"And if you hadn't encountered that ship, you could've gone home from there." A dull ache twisted in her chest, her voice taking a stricken tone. "And we would've been safe for the meantime in this anomaly."

"Aeryn…," he shook his head.

"Were you not coming back, John?"

"Of course I was coming back."

"But that's the plan, isn't it? You help us hide somewhere, then you go away."

He leaned in quickly, saying, "have I ever given you a reason to think I would leave you?"

"You're being furtive with me, and you know it."

"Listen, I know what I'm gonna do – I just don't know exactly _how_ I'm gonna do it."

"Stop your dissembling!"

"Aeryn! Listen to me!"

She grabbed his wrist, and yanked him over the table, bringing his face close to hers. Caught off guard, he met her glare with wide-eyes.

"Just promise me one thing, John," she said, jaw set tight but eyes pleading. "No matter what you do, please take him with you."

He was stricken by her words, mouth agape and head shaking.

"Baby," he whispered. "I would never leave you."

"I can't watch him suffer out here any more -- not if there's a chance for him somewhere else."

John scooted his chair in, bringing his knees to hers. He took her face in his hands and leveled their eyes together. "I will be dead before anything happens to him. You have my word on that."

She gripped his wrists tightly, searching for the truth in his eyes.

"You and Jack, Pilot and Moya – we're gonna get you away from this, no matter what it takes."

"But we're not going with you, are we?"

"To Earth?"

She nodded.

"You know I'll do my best to make a case for you and Jack, but there's no way they'll accept the whole lot – not knowing there're Peacekeepers here."

"And the Leviathans?"

"I have a pitch in mind, but the chances aren't great."

In that case, Braca and Velorek and all of her companions on Moya would be left behind -- deserving comrades who had given everything for the survival of their band. Leaving them to fend for themselves would be a terrible thing to live with, but she had to consider one thing above all others.

"He's half-human, John. You can make a good case for him. And if grouping him with me complicates his acceptance, then forget about me."

"Aeryn..."

"No, John. Spare me your sentimental heroics and look to the truth of it. If there's a better chance for him alone, then you act accordingly. I insist on it! And not another word, otherwise."

He hung his head, resigned. "All right," he muttered. But when she looked down between his legs, seeing his hands hanging there, she saw the old gesture – two crossed fingers. For a microt she wanted to thrash him, but the better part of her saw the important truth. He was John Crichton, through and through, and he would never give up on her, no matter what she said or the odds against them.

Aeryn touched his face, running her fingertips along his jaw. When he looked up, she met his eyes with all the love she could muster. It hit him hard. He looked away shyly, almost laughing. But when his sights returned, she saw the same sentiments reflected there – pure abiding love.

They looked at each other, their breaths deepening, hands reaching across to find one another's. His eyes fell to her lips, his grip tightening on her hands. Slowly, he pulled her inward.

She closed her eyes just as their lips met.

"Oh...," came a woman's voice. "I'm sorry."

Liz stood several paces down the corridor, averting her eyes with a folder of papers in hand.

Aeryn sat up instantly, feeling a hot flush wash over her face.

John snorted a dry chuckle, the redness blooming in his cheeks as well. He shook his head, saying, "it's okay, hon. That's what we get for PDA."

Liz shrugged, wincing. "I would say this could wait, but it's kind of important."

"No, that's fine. Come over here and sit."

Liz flashed a sheepish smile at Aeryn as she approached.

Aeryn grinned back and said, "I'm assuming you've already figured out where I stand when it comes to him."

"No, it's fine," Liz replied. "He needs to get out of the house more."

"Okay, that's enough," John said. "Daughter, love life – not chocolate and peanut butter." He gestured to an open chair. "Now, there was some matter of importance to discuss?"

Liz took a seat at the table, splaying the papers over the surface. There were numerous lines of small English characters, arranged in columns.

John looked over the papers for a moment, then took a pen from his pocket and marked some of the lines.

"This can't be right," he said.

"What is this?" Aeryn asked.

"It's that survey we extracted from the Scarran vessel's computers," Liz said. "There were thousands of Earth species cataloged, plant and animal alike. We matched the recorded genomes with those in our databanks and put this list together."

"What's so remarkable about it, other than the fact that it exists?" Aeryn asked.

"The fact that it exists in the past, thousands of years ago," John answered, looking bewildered as he scanned the documents. "Many of these species are extinct."

"What? For how long?" Aeryn asked.

"Some for centuries, others for millennia."

"But none more than thirty-thousand years," Liz said.

"Really?" John asked. "So no dinosaurs? Too bad. They would've gotten along famously with the Scarrans. Could'a laid eggs together."

John flipped the page, then leaned in suddenly, his eyes snapping to a line highlighted in yellow.

"Yeah," Liz said. "That's the kicker."

Aeryn looked closer at the page. She recognized one of the words in the line.

'Homo Sapiens: _Human_.'

"This survey must've been conducted over twenty-thousand years ago," John said. "And we were there to greet these visitors." He leaned back, wide-eyed and cupping his forehead. "This is amazing."

"What's even more amazing is the fact that the Scarrans didn't capitalize on your resources then," Aeryn said.

But no, that couldn't have happened. The Scarrans and the Peacekeepers had only just found one another within the past five-thousand cycles. How could they have been to Earth and back fifteen thousand cycles before that?

"John," Aeryn said, "it wasn't the Scarrans who conducted that survey. They wouldn't have had the means that long ago."

"The Kalish, then?"

"Doubtful. Our information suggests that the Scarrans brought space-faring technology to them. It had to be someone else."

John turned to Liz. "Then that's our priority. Do everything possible to identify the origin of this list."

Liz shook her head. "It doesn't look good. We didn't even have time to download a complete copy of the survey before the attack, let alone any supplemental information."

"Well keep looking, hon. We need to know."

Just then, a loud alarm rang out, the walls falling awash in swirling red light. Everyone jumped up from the table, John grabbing his com.

"Commander, what's going on?" he asked.

"Brace for impact!" a voice yelled through the overhead speakers.

The floors and walls shook with a distant rumble, unsteadying their feet for a moment.

"I've gotta get to the bridge," John said. "Liz, take Aeryn to my quarters."

"Like hezmana!" Aeryn yelled. "Get me to a tactical post where I can monitor Moya."

He sped off down the hall, turning back to speak. "To the hangar, then. Get her set up in the flight control room."

Liz nodded, dashing off in the other direction. "This way, Aeryn."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John entered the bridge, tucking his shirt into his pants and re-securing his sidearm belt. A younger man with dark hair rose from the seat in the center of the chamber, moving to an adjacent chair.

"What's happening, Commander?"

"The Dreadnaught, sir. Came in cloaked and fired on us before phasing out again."

"Did we get a lock on any signatures?"

"No, sir. But we detected an energy burst as they passed. Looks like they did a quick scan of the Leviathan fleet."

"How's our situation?" John asked.

"Minimal damage. The anti-fire battery was engaged."

"All right. Looks like we need to gear things up for another departure." He turned to the navigator. "Initiate a wormhole solution for Destination 1D." He turned to the comms officer. "Lieutenant, tell the Leviathans to form up around us -- fast!"

"They're already tethering the wounded, sir," the woman answered.

"Good," John said, rubbing his hand over his face. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"Sir! Another pass!" yelled the radar officer.

The hulking form appeared at the periphery of the Leviathan fleet, releasing a barrage of focused fire into the caravan's center. Instantly, Terra-3's anti-fire cannons met the ordinance, blocking all but one shot.

The Dreadnaught shimmered out of sight again.

"One of the Leviathan's was hit!" yelled the comms officer. She spun her chair back to face him, eyes wide. "It was Moya!"

He advanced to the front display. "Open a channel!"

"Done," she answered.

"Pilot?" John called out.

"Crichton!" Pilot yelled. "They've hit us in Command. The entire deck is vented."

"Jesus," John muttered. "Get in close to us, Pilot."

"I've lost fine discrimination of navigation."

John spun to the helm officer. "Move in on Moya. Get her within our optimal defense periphery. Hurry!" He rushed to the radar display and leaned over the view screen. "Is there anything we can use to locate that damn thing?"

"We're trying, sir. We need more data."

"Well you're about to get plenty. Pay attention!" He pushed up from the display and walked to the floor's center. Right about now, Aeryn would be arriving in the hangar. It sickened him that she would see this without him beside her.

"Sir! I'm catching brief radiation signatures -- scattered all over."

"She's circling us," John said. "Track the pattern and estimate a trajectory. I want all cannons trained at that point."

"_John_," Aeryn commed.

"Yeah, Aeryn, I'm here."

"_I have to go there now!_" she said, her eagerness apparent.

"It's too dangerous. We've got Moya tucked in tight. She's safe now."

"_The whole command crew is gone. I have to go to them!_"

John stalked over to the wall, lowering his voice. "Aeryn, I'm begging you. Your Prowler's defenseless against that thing."

"_They're losing control of several systems, John. Pilot needs my help._"

"And he'll get all of our attention as soon as we get away from this thing. Until then, let's play it smart."

"Captain! She's emerged again!"

John spun to the front display. "Fire everything!"

The floors vibrated with Terra-3's cannon release, the red blasts speeding away and exploding against the face of the approaching Dreadnaught. Shouts of joy erupted across the bridge, fists clasping in the air. But the joy was stymied by the sudden release of the Dreadnaught's return-fire, the bursts from her cannons too many to count.

Traces of anti-fire whipped out to meet the incoming blasts, the impacts filling the forward view with fiery splatter. The rapidity of the exchange was numbingly fast, the notion of machine-dependence more salient than ever. But despite the complexity of the task, they were able to continue their own cannon fire, the blasts shaking in the floor beneath.

And then the Dreadnaught was gone.

"Sir, multiple bogies moving through the formation!" yelled the radar officer.

"Launch the Battle Globes!" John ordered.

Soon after, the space around the vessel was teeming with the orb-shaped fighters, whizzing to and fro in search of prey. It wasn't long before they found the invaders, blasting the first wave apart unchallenged.

John squinted at a visual of one of the craft, not recognizing it.

"Those aren't Strikers."

"No sir," said the radar officer. "It's a different ship – weaponry unknown. Looks like there might be a single forward cannon, beam-type most likely."

"Why aren't they returning fire?"

Heads shook and shoulders shrugged across the bridge, many of them looking back to John.

"Let's finish 'em off quick," John said. "There's something here I don't like."

"Sir! The Scarran craft are forming a column and advancing on our position! Should we track 'em with anti-fire?"

"No!" John shouted. "We can't target solid mass. The computer won't distinguish 'em from the Leviathans. Let the Globes do their work."

Just then, several of the panel lights flickered out.

"What the hell's going on?" John yelled.

"We've lost control of the Battle Globes, sir," the helm officer replied. "They're in uncontrolled drifts."

"Sir! The Scarran ships are moving in along our hull!" the radar officer said, switching through a series of displays. "They're…wait…," his eyes locking on one of the visuals. "They're fastening themselves to Moya – dozens of them."

"Launch the Corsairs!"

"Sir, Officer Sun is in her Prowler. She's requesting immediate launch access."

_Don't put me in this position, baby, please_. But he knew she would never forgive him if he kept her from this fight. With a labored sigh, he relented.

"Let her go."

"_Crichton!_" Pilot commed in. "_They're cutting into the hull!_"

"We see them, Pilot!" John called out. "The Globes aren't responding and we can't fire from here without destroying Moya. We've got fighters on the way." John turned to the Commander. "Are the Corsairs deployed yet?"

"The first are being launched now."

John turned to the front display. "Give me a visual of Moya."

The hull of the Leviathan was littered with the clinging menaces, sparks flying from each point of attachment. They were spaced uniformly across the surface, forming a serial line that spiraled around the Leviathan from head to tail.

"_Crichton, please!_" Pilot yelled. "_They're cutting all the way through!_"

"Through the hull? Is it a boarding party, Pilot?"

"_No! All the way through __**Moya**_"

A wave a panic washed over him, his heart drumming in his chest. "Aeryn! They're killing Moya!"

"_Making my first pass now!_" she answered.

A quick snap of red pulse fire picked off three craft from Moya's hull before Aeryn's Prowler sped past. But within microts, more descended to replace them.

"_Turning about!_" Aeryn commed.

Several more were picked off by a small formation of Corsairs, joined soon after by several approaching gunships. But despite their efforts, the supply of attackers seemed endless, the ones removed replaced almost instantly by new ones. The frustration was evident in the chatter of the Corsair pilots, some of them communicating with Aeryn to organize their attacks.

Pilot's screams howled across the bridge through the com speakers. Suddenly, two of the prongs from Moya's trident claw broke off and drifted away from the main body. In desperation, Denzil twirled into Moya's side, scraping his hull against hers and shearing off the attackers between them.

But they just kept coming.

John ran to the helm, wresting the officer by his arm. "Get those god-damn Globes back on line!"

"I'm trying sir!"

John dropped the man's arm and stepped to the display, clasping at his head. By now the energy beams were penetrating all the way through in some places.

"Pilot?" John called out, his voice heavy and labored.

Several microts passed before Pilot answered -- a small, wheezing utterance.

"Crichton..."

John grabbed at the display, eyes blurred and burning. "Pilot, hang on, man. Please...hang on!"

"Good-bye, Crichton. Take care of..."

And before his eyes, Moya broke apart completely, her golden shards spreading outward from her center. John shook the display, pounding the glassy surface.

"No!! You fucking bastards!! No!!"

He lost himself in the red torrent of his rage, hurling his fury at the enemy within the screen. At the peak of his violence, he barely noticed the small arms clasping him from behind, urging him to draw his bloody hands away from the shattered glass. It was Liz's voice screaming out, begging him to stop. When he finally calmed down, he looked into her tear-streaked face and slumped to the floor, lost in the horror of what he'd just witnessed.

In the world beyond his thoughts, there was something said of the Globes being online again – the enemy craft, though enormous in number, destroyed rapidly. Then there was mention of a few prisoners.

"Dad," Liz whispered. "Aeryn's bringing her Prowler in now."

Aeryn.

John jumped to his feet, barely mindful of the gauze wrapped about his knuckles. He ran with all his might to the hangar, taking stairs where elevators were delayed and dodging through crowded corridors. When he finally arrived, heart racing and panting for air, her Prowler was just reaching the lower deck, the platform beneath it settling flush into the floor. He leaned down, bracing his hands on his knees for a moment to catch his breath.

The moments passed, but the cockpit never opened. Pushing himself upright, he ran over and jumped onto the runner board, reaching behind the cockpit and engaging the hatch's emergency release. He wasted no time once it was open, reaching in past the helmet's dark visor and unclasping the safety harness at her breast. Then, with a steady leg down on the cockpit's floor, he lifted her from the hatch, holding her leather-clad body in his arms. He carried her quickly to a quiet alcove and sat on the floor, holding her close in his lap. Once they were settled, he unclasped the helmet and lifted it away.

She had a faraway look, stricken with a terror he couldn't imagine. In all his years, he had never seen such loss reflected in a person's eyes. He pushed the hair from her face, pleading for her attention.

"Aeryn?" he whispered. "Look at me, baby – please."

She breathed in small rasps, the cadence unsteady and quavering. Now and then she would shake her head in a quick snap, whispering "no" before turning inward again.

He pulled her cheek into his chest, holding her tightly against him, rocking her to and fro. After a minute he felt her hand clasping his arm, squeezing tighter as they rocked.

"That's it, baby," he muttered. "Hold on to me, now. I'm here."

The grief shook in her shoulders, then arrested her breathing, followed then by the slightest squeal that ushered in the tears. He listened to her cry, wishing there were something he could say. But with this, there were no words. All he could do was pit the power of his love against her pain...and make a single promise to himself.

_She'll never suffer like this again -- even if it means killing every Scarran in the universe, so help me god._

And just then a commotion rang out from somewhere in the hangar.

"He's an ugly red-headed fuck, ain't he?" a man bellowed.

"Splotchy looking bastard."

Aeryn snapped her face around, listening for a moment, then jumped to her feet and stalked off towards the commotion.

John followed.

They came upon a group of guards, two of them dragging a half-conscious Kalish man, their arms hooked under his shoulders, the prisoner's hands bound behind his back.

"Was he one of the pilots?" John asked.

"Yes, sir," the unit leader replied. "Just pulled him from his ship."

They dropped the man to his knees and backed away, leaving the wobbling prisoner to hold himself upright. John stepped in slowly, fists balled at his side and eyes burning.

"So your mission was to kill a harmless Leviathan?" he asked.

The prisoner's head listed to the side, his eyes swollen and shut, marred by bruises and cuts. He muttered without looking up.

"My mission was to hurt you, John Crichton."

The guards snapped their guns up, moving in on the prisoner.

"No!" John yelled, gesturing for them to fall back. When they moved away, he returned his attention to the prisoner.

"You killed Moya -- just to send me a message?" he growled, unclasping his sidearm.

The Kalish man looked up, forcing one eye to open slightly. "My family will live because of what I've done today," he rasped. "But I regret to tell you, it won't be the same for you. They will kill everything you love, leaving you to witness the horror of it all before they grant you the mercy of death."

Aeryn streaked past John's shoulder and kicked the prisoner to the ground, straddling his body. In a flash, her pulse pistol was in hand, whipping repeatedly into his face, bits of flesh and bone flying up with the dull, crunching _thuds_ of the weapon's impact.

John stepped in a few paces, wanting to reach out to her but knowing better. In that moment, the creature dying beneath her body was the face of every killer that had taken the lives of cherished companions. Even in her soldier years, she had never been more dangerous.

Slowly, her swings became erratic, her body leaning from exhaustion. When there was nothing left to aim for, she straightened up and looked over the wide-eyed faces. When she turned to John, he felt the torture in his expression, pained by the sight of her wild, bloodied countenance, flecks of flesh caught in the wisps of her loose hair.

He squatted down, bringing his eyes to her level. "Aeryn...," he whispered, holding his hand out to her.

Her eyes shot to his hand, holding her attention for a moment. But slowly, her sights turned back to the mangled thing beneath her.

"Are there any more?" she asked.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Jack snapped the fastens of his vacuum suit, fingers hastening over the pressure locks. The rustling din of hurried dressing swished throughout the cabin of the transport pod, others around him rushing to get their suits on.

"We're at fifty macrots exposure!" Velorek said, scrambling to secure his own suit. "He's got another thirty at best!"

"We're approaching the chamber debris now!" the pilot announced from the cockpit. "I'm firing the runner cables!"

Jack looked to the rear of the cabin. Three people were on their hands and knees spreading a large plastic sheet over the floor. A woman followed behind them, coating it with a pink, oily liquid

Jack paused, the fastens of his suit clasped in his fingers. He watched the woman flatten the sheet beneath her wetted brush, smearing the oily sheen over the crinkled material. Suddenly, the image of Moya's tumbling pieces flashed in his mind, issuing another demand for acceptance.

Just then, the weight of a corded bundle of cables whipped into Jack's shoulder, Velorek holding the other end, his dark eyes electrified and severe.

"When I cut his visceral motor nerves, you'll have less than a macrot to splice the ends into the pacer unit. You have to get at least three for every organ. Can you do it without a chart?"

Jack nodded, taking the bundle of cables. It was a complicated system, but shadowing Velorek through the cycles left him with a decent grasp of Pilot physiology, particularly at the Leviathan interface. But there was little time for the operation, and he was near panic at the notion of the odds. No team had ever extracted a Pilot in less than three arns. They would have ten macrots, at best.

"Check your suits!" the pilot said from the cockpit.

Jack fastened his helmet and activated the vacuum system, his ears popping with the pressure differential. When everyone was dressed, the oiled sheet was clamped down and the cabin evacuated by those not wearing suits. Then, the pilot expressed the air from the cabin and opened the loading doors to outer space.

A giant chunk of Moya's hulk hovered in the space before them, fluids spewing from the ragged edges of the debris, the spray crystallizing in the void. Jack looked away, wincing. In that brief glance he saw the underside of Pilot's console, a few of the nerves wisping loosely in the space beneath the platform. Slowly, he looked back, squinting at the ghastly scene.

In the corner of his sights the silver glint of a Corsair streaked by, followed by a few others in loose formation. In the distance, Battle Globes fanned out through the area, forming a defensive net around the perimeter of the rescue. A few of Terra-3's maintenance craft moved in, casting wide beams of light over the scene.

Velorek moved to the open door, his magnetic boots stepping high with each pull from the floor. He tested the fasten of a large tool pack at his back, then attached a hand-held cable-runner to the taut wire strung between the transport pod and the debris. With a quick nod, he zipped away on the line, feet held forward as he advanced.

Jack followed immediately, latching his cable-runner to the line and holding fast as it ushered him across the divide. He tried not to look at the faces of Moya's crewmembers floating by, but the red hair of one longtime friend was unmistakable. Then there was the bald, spotted scalp of old Neblin, the reliable mechanic, waiting for him just within the walls of the debris as he zipped into the hulk. The old man's body twisted to face him, his blackened eyes bursting from the sockets and the flesh within his mouth swelling out beyond his lips. Jack nearly retched at the sight of his distorted features, the horror of it worsened by the trace resemblance that remained of the living man.

He must have uttered something in fright, bringing Velorek's attention.

"_Jack. Keep your eyes ahead, son. Don't look at them._"

"Yeah...okay."

When they reached the platform, Jack moved quickly to the nerve base beneath the console. Another two crewmembers joined him underneath, readying themselves for the task, the remainder joining Velorek up top.

"_He's alive_," Velorek commed. "_There's a DRD here. It's...putting pressure on a wound, looks like. Feris, quick – give me that med kit._"

Jack ran his fingers through the nerve bundle, separating the strands according to target organ. Many were still connected to Moya's loosely-attached interface, itself a dead component serving only to anchor the bundle. The wetted strands slipped clumsily between his gloved fingertips, complicating the process, but Jack adapted quickly, forming a latticework with his fingers to separate the strands and maintain the grouping.

"Velorek," he said. "I'm almost finished here."

"_All right, I'm coming._"

Velorek crawled over the edge of the console's platform, pulling himself along the metallic surface with magnetic cups. Once at the base, he drew a pair of large forceps and a scalpel from his bag and snagged a single nerve at the point of Moya's interface.

"_You know the order,_" Velorek said. "_Splice each nerve as I free it._"

Jack turned the pacer on, checking each well on the interface's surface for activity. If they were successful, dozens of nerve ends would be spliced into the portable machine within macrots.

"Ready," Jack said.

Velorek made quick but careful cuts, freeing all of the nerves in that particular bundle. Once finished, he quickly drew the bundle from the other groups and handed it to Jack. Many of the nerve-ends were too damaged to function in the pacer. Jack rifled through the ends, searching for the strongest three in the cord. They all looked bad.

"These need to be cut higher," Jack said.

"_They have to be clipped near the terminals. Any higher and the splice won't take. Just pick the best – and hurry! I'm almost through with this next bundle._"

It had to be intuition, then – one degree from guesswork, maybe less. Jack took the three best candidates from a cursory look and inserted each into a well, locking them in place. The strands looked withered and useless.

Velorek thrust another bundle his way. These weren't much better, but at least one of the inserts appeared healthy.

They continued in haste, Velorek releasing the nerves and Jack splicing them into the pacer. When they finished, Jack looked at his timer. They were three macrots over the allotted time.

"_We've lost his metabolic signal,_" someone commed from above.

"_Frell!_" Velorek yelled, clamoring towards the top of the platform. "_Hook him into the pump! We have to cycle his fluids._"

It was a foolish expectation. No Pilot could survive having these many systems transferred at once, especially one in this condition. The prospect of giving up hurt, but this was only putting off the inevitable.

Velorek's orders boomed through the com, determination and desperation both apparent in his tone as he summoned more equipment.

"Velorek," Jack said, shaking his head. "It's not gonna happen."

"_No!_" Velorek's helmet darted out from the platform's edge. "_We're finishing this. Now pick up that pacer and follow while we lift him out._"

The nerves hanging beneath the platform straightened tautly as the team lifted Pilot from the console. Jack cut the power to his boots and pushed up from the floor, floating up to the platform with the pacer in hand. Once at the top, he got his first glimpse of Pilot, wrapped tightly in insulation blankets. His eyes were clouded over, the chalky grayness barely visible within the narrow slits of his eyelids. He breathed through a mask, the blankets moving with the rise and fall of his chest.

"_Let's get him on the line,_" Velorek said.

The team lifted Pilot's shrouded body to the cable and attached him to three joined cable-runners, sending him off to the transport pod. Others followed.

Jack turned back to the center of the chamber one last time. There, where the floor met the console, his mother and father used to sit and talk, stealing away to explore their fascination with one another in the absence of prying eyes. And in that same place, Jack nursed and slept in Aeryn's arms day after day as she came to embrace her new role as a mother. Then, as a child, he often walked across the console's top, arms spread for balance, talking to Pilot for arns about everything that crossed his young mind. And just days ago, it was here that he met his father and sister for the first time. Through all the cycles of his life and the few before, Pilot's chamber had been a place of living, loving and learning.

Now, this scene would only be known in memory.

"Good-bye, Moya," he whispered.

A lone DRD rolled out from behind the console, a bloodied rag clamped in its little claw. It stopped at Jack's feet, looking up with one good eye-stalk. Jack knelt down and swept One-eye up, tucking the little robot beneath his arm.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Darkness. That was all John saw beyond the caravan in the bridge's forward visual. But out there, far past the eye's sight, the Dreadnaught waited, uncloaked and broadcasting its position on every transponder channel. It bristled in the distance, daring him to come forth.

"Captain," said the coms officer. "They've arrived with Moya's Pilot."

"Is the aquarium ready?"

"The mineral concentrations are still a little off, but they say it'll be fixed by the time he gets to the habitat deck." The com officer paused for a moment, fingers pressed to his earpiece. "The leviathan scientist is requesting aid with the Pilot's ambulation."

"Then get people down there. Consider any request he makes a direct order from me."

Only an arn ago, the man offered a dash of hope just when all seemed lost. '_I may be able to extract the Pilot,_' he'd said. John received the message, standing outside the door of the shower room where Aeryn had locked herself in. He offered the breadth of Terra-3's resources to the effort, and executed every security measure available when learning Jack was participating in the extraction. Once it was in motion, he tried again to beckon Aeryn's attention through the door, but she didn't acknowledge him. He spared her the chance of further disappointment, giving her time to grieve alone, left unaware of the plan to save Pilot.

And then the signals started pouring in. Hails on the com, automated transmissions and an array of beacon pulses. The Dreadnaught hit them with every conceivable signal, roaring its challenge from across the void. It was a wish John itched to grant, but that meant leaving the Leviathans unguarded.

Nevertheless, vanquishing this ship would hardly sate his need for revenge. No. They would have to pay the lion's share before he felt vindicated. These invaders of worlds and killers of the innocent. John closed his eyes and pictured a perfect sphere of swirling reddish-green, splotched by yellow clouds. He imagined a single execution, an action aimed at the core of the sphere. Suddenly, the damned on the planet's surface threw their hands to the air, screaming their pleas for mercy as the ground shook – gases spewing from the body's inner workings, clouding the surface in a poisoned shroud. The planetary foundations rocked with a violence that shook the mountains, crumbling them to their bases. When the scourge was vanquished, the molten surface washed away the remains of their civilization, flushing it into the wormhole at the planet's center.

These were the weapons of the coming war, and such would be the fate of the defeated. What wrong was there in a single demonstration against this harassment? It was only a matter of time before the Scarrans fell to this power anyway. What difference did it make who delivered it?

John curled his lip, ground his teeth and clenched his fists until the knuckles were white.

"Fire on that vessel!"

"Yes, sir!"

Red blasts shot forth into the nighted distance.

"They've cloaked again, sir."

"Cowards," the first officer grumbled.

The blip appeared on the transponder screen again, this time in a different position. The communications board lit up, the empty Scarran hails returning on dozens of frequencies.

Behind him, the doors to the bridge slid open. Liz walked in.

"Captain," she said. "There's something you should see in the med bay."

"Now's not a good time."

"It's one of the Kalish prisoners," she said, handing him an X-ray film. "Dr. Sturgeon found this in his scans."

There was a long, rectangular object embedded in the prisoner's upper leg bone, comparable to the femur.

"What if it's a trap?"

"It's not a bomb or anything like that."

"Is it broadcasting anything?"

She shook her head. "We haven't detected a signal."

John held the scan to the lights above, squinting at the picture. The component appeared cylindrical along its length, pieced from two halves, one end slightly larger and sliding over the other at the center.

"Looks like some kind of casing," he said. "Is the prisoner conscious?"

"Yes, and he's asking to speak to you."

"We'll see what he has to say after we crack that leg open." He turned towards the door, casting a quick glance at the first officer on the way out. "You have the bridge, number one."

The bridge crew traded a few knowing looks and snickers.

When they entered the med bay, a ring of guards had the hospital bed surrounded, occluding John's view of the prisoner. A gray, wiry-haired man emerged from the group, a capped syringe tucked behind his ear and another one hanging loosely from the side pocket of his lab coat.

"You're about to lose one, Tom," John said, pointing to the pocketed syringe.

"Oh, yes," he replied, snatching it from his coat and tucking it behind his ear, dislodging the other one. He looked at Liz. "He's up to speed, then?"

"I told him everything I know."

"Good, because there's more now."

Tom Sturgeon led them to an image screen in an adjacent room. He scrolled through some pictures and stopped on a shot of the backside of the Kalish man's leg. It was marked by a long cut running the length of the hamstring, clasped together by stitches.

"The device was recently implanted," Tom said. "The man can barely stand."

"Has he told you what it contains?" John asked.

"Information."

"What, like phone numbers? Directions to the party?"

"No, more like schematics for that Dreadnaught. And a little more, maybe."

John shook his head. "No. I don't like it."

"What's not to like?"

"Lots. For starters, one of these bastards that killed Moya is laying comfortably in my hospital bed. Second, it seems a little...I don't know...weird?...that he would just waltz in after the kill and deliver the Achilles tendon for that ship."

"He didn't participate in the attack."

"Say again?"

"He never fired a shot. His ship experienced 'technical difficulties'. The corsairs found him drifting outside the area, broadcasting a faint distress signal. And get this – it was a Peacekeeper code."

John turned to Liz. "That would've been good information about an hour ago."

"Sorry," she said. "We're just now piecing this whole mess together."

"Well if this guy's got a plan," John said, "then let's do our part. Cut that thing out of his leg."

"Do you wanna speak to him first? He's eager to tell you something."

"Did you check him for the poisoned tooth?"

Tom laughed. "No, but he's been cleared of the force."

"Guess that'll have to do."

They returned to the room, John gesturing for the guards to move as they approached. The Kalish man looked up from the bed with wide, aqua eyes and an exuberant smile.

"John Crichton. It is an honor."

"Yeah yeah. What's that thing in your leg?"

"A gift to the conquerors of the Scarran empire," he answered, chin raised. "From House Zikaru."

"I think you might have the wrong impression, pal. We're not taking over here."

"Then you're decimating the empire completely. Even better!"

"Tempting, but that's not on the agenda, either. At least not at the moment."

The man's smile withered. "Then you're ridding us of the ship, at least?"

"Now _that_ is definitely on the list of things to do. And I understand you can help?"

"Indeed. The ship's schematics are contained herein," he said, patting his thigh. "Along with detailed descriptions of the cloaking apparatus."

Everyone in the room shifted a little.

"Well...that's _very_ helpful, Mr. uh..."

"Leezin Zikaru, of the House Zikaru." He bowed his head with an oblique look. "This is our gift to the conquerors of..."

"Yeah, I got all that. So let me get this straight -- you're a family of secret rebels?"

The man looked offended. "House Zikaru has many families. The honor should be shared amongst all of them, not just mine."

John raised his hands. "Sure, of course. Everyone gets credit in...houses. If these specs check out, there'll be plenty to go around."

"We seek only to be remembered as free Kalish who partook in the liberation of our people." Leezin raised his finger, puffing his chest out. "Let your archives note that House Zikaru stood against the tyrants at the pitch of battle and struck the blow that tipped the tide of war, bringing our enslavers to their knees!"

John turned to Liz, muttering from the side of his mouth, "you writing this down?"

"And let history not forget that the Kalish were once a proud and noble people with a clear vision for their future, always seeking to better…"

"Yes yes," John said, urging Leezin to lay back. "We'll get you a laptop once this thing's out of your leg."

Leezin clasped John's forearm. "Don't accept this gift lightly, John Crichton. Use it to defeat this machine, then swallow them with your wormholes, all of them, the way you did so many cycles ago. Death is not enough. They _must_ know fear!"

The guards rushed in and shoved Leezin to the bed, pinning him to the mattress.

John yanked his arm free and turned for the door. "You've got the wrong wormhole wizard, pal. Tom, let me know when this is done."

"You have to finish them!" Leezin yelled, straining to raise his head. "They're killing your people, too!"

John stopped at the door. On the other side of the bed, Tom stepped back, capping the needle of an empty syringe.

"The Scarrans...they'll kill them...to the last," Leezan continued, head beginning to wobble. He struggled to keep his eyes open. "Your brothers and sistss..."

John walked towards the bed. "What are you talking about? What brothers?"

"The sebasssuuh...," he murmured, head falling back to the pillow and eyes rolling up. "Ssar yuman. Erstlings."

And then he was unconscious.

"What a nut," one of the guards said, others snickering.

John caught Tom's eye, trading a look of shared puzzlement. He twisted a finger in his ear. "Anybody get a decent translation on that last bit?"

Heads shook and shoulders shrugged.

"No, sir."

"Nothing."

"Just clicks and whistles."

John's com beeped.

"_Captain,_" the first officer said.

"Yes, Commander."

"_They're lowering Pilot into the tank now_."

"I'm on my way." John walked to the door, Liz following behind. "Tom, get that thing out of his leg and buzz me when he wakes up."

"Will do."

John and Liz took a railcar to the habitat sector in Terra-3's aft. They sat side-by-side in a two-person seat, John stretching his arm along the top of the backrest. He grabbed his com.

"Aeryn?"

He lowered the com a little, eyes cast aside as he listened.

"Baby, you there?"

More silence.

"Damn it. I should go get her."

"I don't know," Liz said. "Maybe Jack should do it."

He recalled Aeryn's outburst and the madness in her eyes. For a moment, while she straddled the kalish pilot's body, he thought she might raise her gun and start shooting at everyone around her. Carefully, he reached with a gentle hand, crooning to her like a child wooing a scared kitten from flight. She lowered her hands and dropped the bloodied weapon, looking across the watching faces. He called to her again, "_Aeryn,_" wagging his outstretched hand. She turned, her lips parting slightly, the whites of her eyes bright against her bloodied visage.

He shuffled in towards her, but she drew back, shaking her head. When he moved in further, she jumped to her feet and ran away into a corridor.

When he followed, John found her locked in a shower room. Beyond the door he heard her hitched breathing and the squeaking of shower knobs. Through the hissing water came the unmistakable _thud_ of a body collapsing to the floor. He knew exactly where she was, huddled under the spray in the corner of the shower, fighting to stifle her sobs. But when she couldn't hold it any longer, her scream echoed throughout the deck.

Aeryn's grieving, the hissing of a shower, and him stuck on the other side of the door.

It was his twin's death all over again.

The railcar came to a halt. John and Liz exited and rushed down to a corridor's end where they entered a vast room. At its center sat a large, clear-walled tank, the outer rim ringed by a walkway accessible by a metal stairway built against its far side.

Pilot floated within the make-shift incubator, suspended in a pinkish, bubbling fluid, hoses swirling all around him. A mixed group of humans and sebaceans turned when John walked in, some of the sebaceans still in their vacuum suits.

"My god," John said, padding towards the tank.

Jack stepped in from the group, fully soaked in incubator fluid. "He's stable. We should know in an arn or two if his systems can function independently."

John leaned into the tank, forearms pressed against the glass above his head. Pilot's eyes were completely clouded over, the membranes cracked, his once yellow-orange irises now a chalky gray.

"His eyes," John muttered.

Footsteps approached from behind.

"They're necrotic. I'll have to remove them in a few arns."

A man with dark, wet hair walked up beside him, looking into the tank as he approached.

"You," John said. "You're the scientist I spoke to earlier?"

"I am."

John turned to face him. "What you did here today – I can't tell you how thankful I am."

"I couldn't have done otherwise. This Pilot wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for me."

"Yeah, join the club. I'm John, by the way," he said, extending a hand in greeting.

A sebacean tech shouted on the walkway above. "Velorek! We're getting a bio-rhythm!"

The man turned suddenly and ran up the stairs.

John lowered his hand. _Velorek._ That was the name of Aeryn's dead lover. A tech. No, a specialist working on the gunship project…on Moya. It was a striking similarity – two men with the same name, one a hybrid specialist and the other a leviathan scientist. If the man weren't dead...

"That went well," Jack said, stepping up with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Huh?"

Jack nodded towards Velorek. "The meeting."

"Any reason it shouldn't have?"

Jack looked bemused. "You mean, you don't know about him?"

"I just met the man."

"Oh," Jack said, patting at his pockets. "I had an extra cable here somewhere, I should probably see..." He looked up at the platform. "You guys need help up there?"

"We've got it," Velorek answered, grinning down. "His systems are fully functional. Unbelievable!" He adjusted something on a piece of equipment and ran back down to a monitor set on the floor.

John clutched Jack's arm. "Jack, what're you talking about?"

Just then the door opened and Aeryn walked in, fully cleansed, her damp hair falling over the shoulders of a newly acquired t-shirt.

"I think you're about to find out," Jack murmured.

When she saw Pilot, she rushed to the tank and spread her hands over the glass, her eyes transfixed on the injured creature. She traced her fingers over the form of his face, cooing to him in a warm, motherly tone. John knelt to the ground, awed by her ostensible display of affection. She owned her love and gave it unabashedly -- so unlike the Aeryn he once knew. How much more was there to this wiser, loving woman? Pilot was right. He needed to get to know her again.

He beamed at the prospect, twisting absently at the band on his finger.

Aeryn turned towards Velorek, her back to John. She palmed the corners of her eyes and straightened up, shaking her head slightly. When Velorek took a few steps her way, she closed the distance between them and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him in a fierce embrace.

John understood. He wanted to the hug the guy, too. Probably would after Aeryn was finished.

Their foreheads touched. He couldn't quite hear what they were whispering, but the gist seemed to be 'thank-you' and 'don't mention it'. But then he kissed her.

And everything around him seemed to collapse inward, his eyes fixed on Aeryn and the scientist. A sudden pain twisted in his chest.

"I think I get it now."

"Yeah," Jack replied, his brow furrowing. "Wasn't expecting that, though." He walked over to a spread of tools, head shaking, and started cleaning.

"Velorek," John muttered to himself. "Back from the dead."

Suddenly, his com beeped.

"_Crichton, it's Tom_."

"Yeah. What's up?"

"_A lot. We've got beautiful schematics here. I'm forwarding them to Tactical._"

"Good," John said, locking eyes with Aeryn when she turned. "I'll head there now."

"_Come by here first. You're not gonna believe this. And bring your sebacean woman with you._"

"She's kinda occupied," John said, turning towards the door. "I'll see in you in a minute."

"John!" Aeryn called, her voice cut off by the closing doors.

John walked to an elevator and pounded on the button. _Don't get mad. Don't get mad. You've been apart for twenty years. What did you expect? _

_But right in front of me? Come on._

He breathed a sigh of relief when the elevator door opened, but just as he stepped in, the door down the corridor swished and Aeryn ran into the hallway.

"Hold it, Crichton!"

"I'm sorry, babe -- really gotta go -- be back in a few hours." He pressed the door-control button.

The closing doors stalled and drew open again.

"Damn it!" he cursed, switching to the other button.

Aeryn slid between the closing doors, landing deftly at the back wall with crossed arms. Once the elevator was underway, John propped himself in the door jamb with an outstretched arm, facing her squarely from across the small chamber. Above them, a mellow rendition of 'Sweet Child of Mine' piped through the speakers, strings and flutes dancing lightly in the air.

"So there really is music in these things," she said.

"Good memory. I'm impressed."

"I'd prefer silence."

He shrugged. "It makes us feel at home."

They exchanged looks for a moment.

"Look..."

"John..."

They spoke simultaneously, each pausing after the other.

"All right, can I just say something?" he asked.

"Only if you listen to me first."

"No. What I'm gonna say…it's not what you think."

"That's what I was going to say."

"What?"

"Velorek and I, it's not what you think."

He straightened up. "You mean...you two...you're not...?"

"Oh. Yes, we're lovers."

John snorted. "Subtle, Aeryn. See, _that's_ why I wanted to go first."

She shook her head. "You're thinking something different."

"What do you think I'm thinking?"

"That we're in love."

"So you don't love him?"

"Of course I do."

John threw his hands up, turning sidelong. "Aeryn, you're playing tennis with yourself."

"You _know_ what I mean, John. You're the one who always said there's a difference between love and being in love."

She had a point. "So you and Velorek, you're just good friends who are...," he cleared his throat, "you know…buddies? In the bedroom?"

"No. He's more than a recreation partner, but less than a mate."

It wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear but it was better than other possibilities.

"I thought he was dead."

"No. He was imprisoned on an incarceration vessel."

"You couldn't have left him there?"

"John."

"Alright, alright," he said, hands raised. "So, you found him and ya'll just…picked up where you left off?"

"In some ways, yes." She paused for a moment. "He's helped me through some difficult times."

"Hmm. And how's it been?"

She shrugged. "Generally acceptable. We've had our share of disagreements over the arrangement, but we have an understanding."

"Arrangements and understandings. That usually means people don't see eye to eye."

"He wants more than I can give him."

"And now?"

"He'll understand. I've hidden nothing from him when it comes to you."

"But Aeryn…you two. How long have you been…?"

"About twelve cycles."

A bad feeling washed through him. John stopped the elevator.

"Twelve cycles?" He shook his head. "Baby, you sure do leave 'em bobbin' in the wake."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know. It just seems a little harsh."

"Is this not what you want?"

"Of course, I think. I mean, I always wanted you. But I was the other guy at one time, too."

She looked away, the muscles in her face twitching. "You think it's easy for me?"

"No," he said, half-shrugging. "Well, maybe a little easy."

"Then you don't know me at all, Crichton."

He raised his hand. "Look, let's not go down this road."

She reached past him, started the elevator again and pressed the button for the next floor, avoiding his eyes.

"Baby, stop it," he said, grasping her arm.

She yanked it loose and pushed past him when the door opened.

"Aeryn…"

Once in the corridor, she spun to face him. "I know this isn't about me leaving Velorek, John."

Something discomfiting stirred within him. "Well…what is it then?"

"It's about us, and what happened a long time ago. You're never going to forgive me, are you?"

"There's nothing to forgive." The words felt hollow.

She looked away, sighing. "John, if _you_ can't even see it, then what hope is there?"

John put his palm over the door's thickness, stalling it in the jamb. He held it there for a moment, looking quietly at the wall beyond her. Deep within, there was a feeling that eluded him, yet it somehow governed his every action with her. Fear, anger, need – the dwelling of his demon lay somewhere in between. He breathed deeply, peeling the layers away, reaching into the vaulted core of his inner conscience.

"You'll do it again," he muttered, eyes staring away.

She didn't speak. When he looked at her again, her eyes were calm and direct in their regard -- never flinching, never blinking. They reached past the pain and anger and touched him in an honest place. She had never looked so boldly into him before.

"This is it, John," she said. Her words were quiet, comforting -- her eyes near-hypnotic. "Everything that I am is right here before you. See it for yourself. It's been yours for the keeping since the day I came back for you."

She was radiant, standing there in her t-shirt and wavy, air-dried hair. John stepped from the elevator, letting the door close behind him. He approached, drawn to her as if in a trance. She reached out and took him in her arms, cupping the back of his neck, glancing down to his chin before looking into his eyes again.

He closed his arms around her waist, marveling at the feel of her tight, lithe body against him. He eased her against the wall, pulling her closer in, his neck tingling from her fingernails' scratching. Her eyes were wine-drunk lazy, her cheeks flushed. Their faces touched, noses rubbing, lips grazing, and then he kissed her, pulling their hips together and bracing her straddled weight with a knee against the wall. The friction between them flowed into a grinding rhythm. It felt so good they had to pull away to breathe.

"Let's go," she whispered into his ear.

"My quarters?"

"Anywhere."

John took her hand and tapped at the elevator button, feeling her lips on the back of his neck.

Suddenly, the emergency sirens blared.

"God, not again!" he growled.

Aeryn looked like she might cry.

He grabbed his com. "Commander, what's going on?"

"_The Globes are off-line again, and the Dreadnaught just cloaked._"

"I thought we isolated that interference. How are they jamming us now?"

"_Don't know, but it's a wide-band jam. We're getting nothing, even when we rotate the frequencies._"

"All right. Alert all Corsair squadrons. We're doing this the old fashioned way."

When the doors opened, Aeryn pushed John in and backed him into a corner. They started kissing again just as "The Gambler" was fading out. Then "Rocket Man" came on. Aeryn pulled away and listened.

"Is that…?"

He smiled. "You remember it?"

She nodded, smiling back. "Your vessel song."

"_I'm a rocket man_," he sang.

She touched his face, her gleaming eyes wandering over his features. Seeing her like this was better than Christmas and post-prom shenanigans and a whole season of NFL combined. He teemed with joy to the point of laughter, hugging her waist so tight she nearly lost her breath.

"Oh baby," he groaned, thrusting his face into her hair. He filled his lungs with her scent and held on to every iota of air. It was just too good.

Then the elevator stopped.

A quick ding gave them the warning they needed to pull apart in time for the elevator's opening. He could sense the nearness of her hand in his fingertips as the door slid open to a hallway full of rushing crewmembers. They exited and moved to a wall in the corridor.

"We'll open another wormhole and relocate," John said.

"As soon as I'm with Pilot, I'll contact Braca and tell him to ready the caravan."

Braca. That bastard. "Yeah, better you than me."

"Be nice."

"Yeah yeah." He gave her a quick peck and turned to leave. "I'll com you from the bridge."

Halfway down the hall, he looked back and grinned, his arms held wide as he back-stepped through the crowded corridor.

"I'm feelin' it, baby – big time!"

She leaned into the wall, arms folded and grinning.

He took one last look at the radiant Aeryn Sun then turned for the train.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Aeryn walked into the habitat chamber, struck instantly by the sight of Pilot writhing in the tank, grasping clusters of hoses within his claws. Waves of fluid spilled over the tank's rim, splashing over the floor. At a nearby console, Velorek bent over a microphone, speaking urgently in Pilot's native dialect.

On the rim above, Jack and a two others stood braced, stances wide as they tried to hook Pilot's arms on long poles. Others scrambled to pull the electrical equipment back from the tank's splashing periphery.

Aeryn ran to the console and shouldered Velorek away, grasping the microphone arm.

"Pilot. It's Aeryn. You're safe now. Can you hear me?"

Pilot answered with a low growl and more splashing.

"Pilot!" she snapped. "Stop struggling and listen to me you drannit's eema!"

The rolling waves slowed within the tank. Pilot tread his arms for a moment, then relaxed. On the tank's rim, Jack straightened up and nodded, dripping wet and panting from exhaustion.

"Aeryn," Pilot said, a gurgling murmur within his mask.

"I'm here, Pilot." She looked over the nervous faces, everyone watching silently as she spoke. "You're safe now."

"Moya?"

She turned her face for a moment, pressing her mouth into her shoulder. Velorek laid a hand on her back.

"I'm sure he suspects it," he whispered.

Sighing, Aeryn turned to the mic and said, "she's gone."

No response.

Velorek pulled Aeryn into his side, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. They listened in silence to Pilot's breathing. He floated there motionless for what seemed macrots, his arms sinking slowly to his sides, his head creeping down until the hardened top clinked against the glass.

Aeryn wiped her eyes. "Pilot?"

No answer.

She walked towards the tank. "I'm getting in there with him."

"Aeryn," Velorek said, grasping her elbow. "Just give him some time."

She yanked her arm away. "He needs me."

"You'll contaminate the bath."

She moved to the tank and brought her face within a few denches of Pilot's. Gingerly, she tapped on the glass for his attention, shifting to look at his downcast visage.

"Pilot?" she said. "I'm right here. Can you hear me?"

Jack walked up, touching Aeryn's shoulder. "What now?" he asked Velorek.

"Let's go ahead and remove the eyes. Sleep's better for him at this point."

"Wait," Aeryn said. "Does he know what you're doing?"

"I'm sure he's figured it out," Velorek replied.

She walked towards the console. "We should tell him at least before you go knocking him out." She leaned into the mic. "Pilot? You don't have to respond. Just listen." She took a few breaths. "Your eyes...they're not well." She paused again, swallowing. "So Velorek has to do an operation...to remove them."

A few microts of silence passed.

"We...," Pilot muttered, then paused. "I...would prefer he didn't."

"He has to," she said. "The infection will spread..."

"You should have left me there, Aeryn. You had no right to separate us."

She closed her eyes. "Pilot. Please."

"You know the covenant."

Aeryn pounded the console. "We don't have the luxury of covenants any more!"

Velorek nodded to Jack, the two of the them walking to a machine on the tank's opposite side.

"You don't understand," Pilot said. "There's no life for me now."

Aeryn wiped her eyes, grimacing. "You think I don't understand? That I don't know about loss?" Her voice was cracked and shaking. "Who was it who took the gun from _my_ hand all those cycles ago? Told me that there was still something to live for?"

Pilot lifted his face, looking blankly into the chamber surround.

"Don't you dare leave me now," she groaned. "Not when we have a chance again."

Pilot's breathing rattled in the speakers, weak and unsteady. "Moya."

The lament hung heavy in the air, threatening her with more tears. "We'll grieve together, Pilot. You won't be alone."

"Her remains," Pilot muttered.

"_Are being collected as we speak._"

Aeryn turned and saw John's image on a view screen behind her, mounted on a support column.

"You've been listening?" she asked.

He looked to either side. "_Well, I was actually just passing by and saw you two and thought I'd stop in._"

She snorted a brief chuckle and wiped her eyes.

"He's down," someone shouted from the tank's rim. "Let's get that crane in place."

Aeryn looked at the display.

"_You okay?_" John asked.

She nodded, folding her hands in her lap and slouching a bit. "Well enough."

"_You're tired._"

"Who isn't?"

"_People who get a good night's sleep._"

She raised her eyes to him.

John lowered his voice, grinning. "_Stay with me tonight?_"

She nodded, sharing a quick smile with him.

Footsteps approached from behind. Aeryn turned just as Velorek and Jack walked up.

"_Hey boy!_" John said, grinning.

"John...Dad...Captain," Jack stammered, chuckling as he slung a bag over his shoulder. He glanced at Velorek. "I'll get things ready in the surgical bay."

John watched Jack walk off, then shifted his sights back. "_Velorek_," he said with a subdued tone.

"Crichton," Velorek answered with a curt nod.

"_You guys need anything down there?_"

"No. We're well-supplied and fully staffed."

"_Well I'll leave you to it, then. We're making the final preparations to open the wormhole._"

"Any sign of the Dreadnaught?" Aeryn asked.

"_None._"

"That's not good," she said.

"_Yeah, it's kinda creepy. Way I see it, though, we're better off somewhere else, regardless of their plan._"

"If you haven't heard from them, then this _is_ their plan," Aeryn said.

"_Yeah yeah, I know._" He turned then to an officer soliciting his attention.

Aeryn tried to listen in, but she couldn't quite make out what the other man was saying.

"_**You**__ talk to him, Simmons_," John murmured.

The other man mumbled something back.

"_What's that got to do with me?_" John asked.

More mumbling.

"_Yeah, and you're second in command. You could carry a little bit of the weight around here, you know._"

Insistent mumbling.

"_Alright, alright,_" John said, throwing a flippant wave. "_But audio only. I don't wanna see that bastard's face._"

"Hezmana, John!" Aeryn said. "Are you talking about Braca?"

He snapped his face to the view screen, looking as if he'd forgotten she were there. "_Um...maybe._"

"Turn your frelling coms on and receive his call. He's our Captain, for Cholak's sake."

Some snickering came through the speakers. John scowled at everyone around him, dampening the mirth on the bridge.

"_Fine then,_" he said. "_Lieutenant, patch me through here._" He pointed directly into the screen, cock-browed eyes locked on Aeryn as the image flickered off.

Aeryn shook her head. "Men."

Velorek sat in a chair beside her, leaning into the console. "I wouldn't take his feelings on their history too lightly."

"They were at odds, I'll grant him that. But he needs to get past it. We've all made alliances with old enemies."

"But out of necessity. These humans don't need us. Besides, I have to admit, at times it's still difficult for me to accept Braca."

"He was what he was," Aeryn said, tying her hair up in a tail. "I was no better."

"I don't believe that for a microt."

There it was again. His abiding faith in her. "You've always been an optimist."

"And you've always been too hard on yourself. Even now, you're wondering how things could've been different." He nodded towards the tank.

Techs were hoisting Pilot from the liquid with a cross-beam crane and laying him on the raised bed of a transport vehicle.

"There's nothing I could've done other than die with Moya," she said.

"I hope you really believe that. The way you wear your gloom outright – it's a miserable sight."

Aeryn gave his hand a quick squeeze. "Don't waste your energies on me. I'll be fine."

He drew back, the skin gathering between his brows. "I'd hardly consider my concern for you a waste."

"Stop it. You know what I mean."

He looked at the view screen. "Yeah, I think I do."

Aeryn followed his eyes.

"It's not like I should be surprised," he said. "You've always loved a dead man more than me. What chance do I have against the living?"

She closed her eyes, wishing there was something she could give him. But there was only the truth, and for him it held nothing.

Sighing, she said, "I can't explain it, except to say that I couldn't fight it even if I wanted to. And I've tried many times."

"But something always brings you back," he said.

"Yes. I've noticed that."

"Hmm. I guess they call that fate."

A chill rushed through her. _We're in the hands of fate now._ She could still see the module drifting before her Prowler.

"I hate that word," she grumbled.

"Well that doesn't seem to matter, does it?" Velorek stood and took a box of tools from the floor. "Because despite your best efforts -- and mine -- fate has reached across the galaxy and brought you together once again." He turned and walked away.

"Velorek..."

"Don't worry," he said, looking back as he rounded the tank. "It's not like I can disappear to a faraway planet."

And just then a deafening _boom_ slammed her against the support beam. Her head crashed against the hard metal, her ears ringing as she fell to the floor. Then, a wave of liquid rolled her over and washed her body across the floor, slamming her into a stack of crates. She grasped at the corner of one and pulled up to her knees, spitting the foul liquid from her mouth. She was covered in glass and cut in a few places.

"Velorek!" she screamed, pulling herself upright.

Sprinklers turned on overhead, hissing in the air. Water rained down all around. Aeryn stumbled across the floor, struggling to see through the hazy spray. The walls of the tank were shattered and collapsed, the contents spilling everywhere. Around her, a few people struggled to their feet. Others lay motionless on the ground.

Aeryn patted her shirt and pockets, looking for her com. Unable to find it, she looked over the surrounding floor. A thin layer of liquid still flowed over the toes of her boots, scattering debris everywhere. It would be impossible to find in this mess.

She ran to the other side of the tank, struggling to keep her footing on the wet surface. Then, far across the room, she saw Velorek's body crumpled against a rectangular grate at the base of the far wall. She sprinted across the distance and slid in beside him.

The floor dipped where he lay, channeling the flowing liquid into the grate. It gushed over his down-turned face. When she snatched his head from the water, blood ran down from his hairline, streaking over his face and dripping into the running water. She looked frantically for his medical bag, but saw it nowhere. Then, with desperate speed, she yanked her shirt over her head and ripped it into two strips. Finding the wound on his head, she wrapped both pieces of the torn material under his jaw and over his crown, cinching the ends in one hand and pulling it tight.

"I need help over here!" she screamed, looking out over the chaotic scene. People were running into the chamber now, soldiers and other emergency crew. Somebody plopped down beside her. It was Jack.

"Hold his head steady while I lift him," Jack said, wriggling his arms beneath Velorek's body.

She pressed her palm against the wound on his head. "We have to stop the bleeding."

"Feel the skull at the wound. Is it soft or dented?"

She pressed her fingertips against the area. It felt rounded and solid.

"No."

"Then keep that pressure on it. We've got a human surgeon on standby to assist with Pilot. She'll know what to do."

They rushed him from the habitat chamber and down a corridor to another room where Pilot was sprawled across a large table, everything except his face draped in a blue garment.

"Over there," Jack said, nodding to a long metal countertop.

When they laid Velorek down, a gowned woman in a mask rushed to the counter and pried his eyes open.

"Is this Velorek?" she asked.

"Yes," Jack answered, a subtle fret in his tone.

"The surgeon?"

He nodded.

She sighed, an exasperated huff. "I need to get him to the med bay immediately. Can you do the procedure yourself?"

"I don't know. Might be better if we waited."

"For him?" the woman asked, quirking her brow at Velorek. "I don't think so. If that necrosis spreads to the Pilot's brain..." She shook her head.

Jack pushed his hair back, brows arching over the taut skin of his forehead. He looked at Pilot for a moment, worry playing across the rolling musculature of his face. Then, with a quick chatter of his teeth, he lowered his arms and took a deep breath.

"Alright," he said, turning to a row of sinks. "Let's get started." A couple of sebacean techs joined him, the three of them stuffing their hands and arms under the steamy water and scrubbing down with foamy brushes.

A few others helped the woman move Velorek onto a stretcher. Once they took him from the room, the woman took her mask off and looked at Aeryn's chest.

"We've got some scrubs in the closet there," she said, nodding to a door behind Aeryn.

"Hmm? Oh," Aeryn said, looking down at her bare breasts.

The woman looked at Jack. "I've summoned a veterinarian. He should be here any minute."

"A what?" Jack said, turning sidelong from the steaming sink.

"A veterinarian. An animal healer."

"Excuse me? Did you say 'animal'?" Aeryn asked, turning her face back as she rummaged through the scrubs closet.

"He'll have more experience with diverse physiology than a medical doctor. Trust me. It's what you want."

Aeryn stepped to the room's center, stuffing her arms into the short sleeves of a v-necked, blue shirt. "Well whatever the case, make it happen fast. And could someone please tell me what the frell just happened out there?"

"No idea," the woman said, exiting the room. "One of the guards out here might know."

"Terrific," Aeryn said. "We could be losing atmosphere and not know it."

Jack raised one dripping arm and looked to his side. "My com's buzzing."

"Let me get that," Aeryn said, snatching it from his belt.

"_Jack!_" Liz said.

"Liz, it's Aeryn."

"_Are you guys okay?_"

"Jack and I are fine, but Velorek's hurt badly. One of your surgical techs just took him to the med facility."

"_What about Pilot?_"

"Jack and two others from Velorek's team are going on with the procedure. And your beast healer is on the way to assist."

"_Our what?_"

"The vesternakaryan!" Jack shouted, shaking the excess water from his hands.

"_Um..._"

"What happened out there?" Aeryn asked.

"_A suicide vessel loaded with ordinance came in cloaked and detonated near your deck._"

"Were there any others?"

"_Two more but we caught their signatures when they passed the sensor halo and were able to intercept. They took a Leviathan, though._"

"Frell! What are we doing about it?"

"_Moving into denser gas._"

Yes. Of course. A cloaked vessel was still a solid mass. The Dreadnaught would create a wake.

"Good," Aeryn said. "Your Captain's serving you well."

"_Actually, it's __**your**__ Captain who's spearheading the plan._"

Braca. She felt a sudden reassurance. "He's a greasy freller when he gets cornered. Crichton would do well to listen to him."

"_Speaking of…hold on._"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John snatched Liz's com.

"Aeryn?"

"_I'm here. Jack and I are alright._"

"Thank god. I'm sending a team to take ya'll to a fortified area."

"_We can't. Jack's about to start Pilot's surgery._"

"Baby, I understand. But given the choice…"

"_We're not leaving him, Crichton. Now get that wormhole open and get us the frell out of here._"

"Yeah," he said, leaning over the tactical display. "We're working on that." He closed his hand over the com and nudged the tactical officer. "Slow down and let the Leviathans advance into the gas. We need more spread in the formation."

"_John?_"

"Yeah, hon. I'm here."

"_We'll need a new tank for Pilot._"

"Damn it. Almost forgot." He looked at Liz. "Can you get somebody on that?"

"Yes, sir," she said, holding her hand out.

"Captain," the coms officer said. "We're being hailed by Galen."

"Open a channel," John said. "Aeryn, I've gotta go. Let me know if anything changes."

"_You do the same._"

"Captain," Liz said, wagging her hand at him.

"What?"

She looked at the com in his hand.

"Oh." He pitched it to her and walked to the hailing screen. Braca's image appeared.

"_Crichton,_" Braca said, shoulders square and chin up.

"Braca," John replied, twisting a crick out of his neck. "What's the plan now?"

"_We'll spread out in the denser region and take fixed positions._"

"You know we won't be able to find you in there. Our sensors are already going haywire."

"_Good, because neither will the Scarrans._"

"So what's to keep us from colliding into you when we come barreling in?"

"_We'll be monitoring your position. Leave the evasion to us._"

"How will you sense us?"

"_Leviathans communicate with each other through focused microwaves..._"

"Of course. And you can also use the beam to locate objects – like sonar." John nodded. "Should'a thought of that, myself." He scratched his head for a moment, then his eyes widened suddenly. "Hey, wait a minute. Once you're in there..."

Braca nodded, grinning. "_All Leviathans will open lines of communication..._"

"And you'll catch 'em in a web of cross-talk. Brilliant! I'd buy you a drink if you weren't such an ass."

Braca chuckled. "_I'll settle for a truce._"

"Works for me. Now get in there and do your thing. We'll be in shortly." John walked to the center chair and sat. "Alright people. We've gotta lure this baby in. Time to look vulnerable."

"Initiate wormhole sequence," Simmons said.

On either side of John's chair, columns rose from the floor, one of them hoisting a screen and the other a console. As the screen turned inward on him, the console unfolded into three panels and shifted laterally over his lap. Digitized meters framed the screen, their level bars dancing near the baselines. Then, one orange line began a slow ascension toward its maximum point.

In the center of the screen, fractals writhed and twisted in rapid sequence. As his eyes tracked the geometric forms, a familiar tickle rose in his gut. He placed his palms over two protuberant ball-tops inlaid within the console and started tracking the fractals with quick flicks of his wrists, working to oppose the imbalance in the twisting mass at the screen's center. He felt the control of his hands being taken by his subconscious mind, working the balls with ever-increasing speed. As the minutes passed, the fractals elongated more and more, narrowing along their lengths and coalescing into a rapidly cycling swirl. Then, with another minute of fine-tuning, the swirling pattern centered on its axis.

"Now!" John said.

A sudden blue flash exploded before them, washing the color out of the Bridge's interior for a moment. Then, the wormhole appeared, filling the view screen with its swirling luminescence.

"Captain," said the helms officer. "The wormhole's exerting an exceptionally heavy gravitational pull. Stationary compensation's taking twenty-five percent of impulse power."

"Any Leviathans nearby?"

"No, sir. All have moved within the cloud."

"Alright. Let's inch our way in."

The bridge was silent as they moved towards the wormhole, everyone sitting rigid at their stations, watching for any sign of attack.

"Sir," said the weapons officer. "Something just grazed Shell-1 of the sensor halo."

"Any further penetration?" John asked.

"No, sir."

"Keep moving. They're testing us. Give no indication that we noticed them."

Another minute passed.

"Penetration to Shell-3!"

"Keep that anti-fire primed," John said. "We'll have to give 'em first shot, but we don't have to take it straight in the face."

"What in the hell's penetrating the halo?" Simmons asked. "That can't be the Dreadnaught."

"The hell it isn't," John said. "I know these bastards. There's no way they can resist getting a close look at the wormhole machine in action."

"Sir," said the radar officer. "I'm getting some strange readings. They may be scanning us."

"See?" John said. "We'll give 'em a little more time to get what they want. Then they'll be ready to fight."

"Captain, something huge just settled in on Shell-4," the weapons officer said. "Matching our speed and vector."

"Holy shit," said Simmons. "They're trying to ride through it with us."

John rubbed his chin. "Maybe they think we're returning to Earth. As long as they think we can't detect them..."

"Sir!" the weapons officer said, spinning in her chair. "Another large vessel just settled within the halo on our opposite flank! Same specs as the other ship."

John bolted from his chair. "There's two of them?"

"Yes sir – and they're hugging in tight."

"Talk about a bad way to get good information," Simmons said.

"You got that right," John said, walking over to the radar station. "So we either go in with them and fight it out on the other side or get it started here and try to lure 'em to the net."

"Either way we're taking damage," Simmons said.

"Agreed." John walked back to his chair. "Alright. We're gonna reverse our way back into the cloud. Helm, it'll be abrupt. We'll need major inertial compensation."

"I'll give it everything we've got," said the helms officer, "but it's still gonna be a jolt. Hope nobody's drinking hot coffee."

"Weapons," John said, "as soon as we hit reverse, start firing on those disturbances in the halo. Throw everything at 'em."

"Yes, sir."

John turned to the forward view screen and sank into the cushioned seat.

"Sound the alarm."

Horns started blaring in the outer corridor.

He fingered his com for a moment, wishing he could see Aeryn one more time. She was so close to the hull, and this had the potential for a full broadside exchange on two flanks.

"Alright," John said. "Aim weapons and ready the anti-fire."

"Done and done."

John leaned in, his fingers digging into the ends of the armrests. "Brace yourselves." He closed his eyes and pictured her in his mind one more time -- raven hair and eyes full of conviction.

_Yours for the keeping._

John took one deep breath and opened his eyes. "Get ready for full reverse on 3...2...1..._now!_"

The clamor of rattling steel banged all around as his body was thrown forward in his seat. John dug his feet in and held fast to the armrests. Everyone on the bridge lurched forward, their bodies bent over the consoles.

Terra-3's cannons fired all around – _booms_ shaking in the walls. Objects fell over the floor, clanging everywhere across the metal surface.

"Good god!" screamed one of the crewmembers. "We're rattling apart!"

"We're firing every fucking cannon!"

"And every anti-fire battery's engaged!" another said.

"It's never this bad in the drills!"

"That's 'cause we're taking hits!" John yelled. "Now get me some lateral views on the front screen!"

When the images of Terra-3's flanks came up, the screens were filled with blasting Dreadnaughts and cannon fire. The hulls were so close he could see Scarrans rushing around in the windows.

"They're right on top of us!" Simmons yelled.

Several lights flashed across the ship's wall-mounted schematic -- the red pulses indicating total pressure loss on the affected decks. John caught a quick glance at the habitat sector. Still intact.

"Port-2 water tank's been hit!"

Ice crystals exploded into the battle space.

"Anti-fire row-8 not responding!"

"They're concentrating on that area!"

"Missiles incoming!"

The deck shook with a violence that threw John from his chair. Something exploded above the ceiling, raining sparks all around. Metallic panels swung down from their hinges, spilling cables and wires into the room. John pushed up and grasped the armrest of his chair, leaning over it for support. One of the lateral visuals showed nothing but static.

"Switch cameras!" John yelled.

Another view popped up on the screen, this one looking down the length of the adjacent Dreadnaught from a recorder on Terra-3's aft. The anti-fire batteries filled the space with blazing tracers, meeting the Dreadnaught's cannon fire just off the hull. But blast after blast was missed, and the impacts shook the decks -- debris exploding outward from the hull.

But Terra-3's cannons were ripping into the Dreadnaughts, tearing into them at point-blank range. The Dreadnaughts started peeling off, sparks and debris spilling from their torn skins. One of them faded into nothingness, but the other only shimmered, becoming slightly translucent before solidifying again.

"Cloak's out on that one!" John yelled. "Hit those engines!"

Cannons fired on the turning Dreadnaught's aft, blasting the main thruster grid apart. The battered vessel yawed off its trajectory, drifting towards the wormhole. Cheers erupted all around.

But the Dreadnaught sent another battery of cannon fire, smashing into the fore engines.

"Captain, we've lost reverse thrust!" the helm officer said. "We're stalling in the wormhole's gravitational field."

"Turn us about!" Simmons said.

"No!" John said. "We can't give 'em a shot at our ass. Swing us around ninety degrees. We'll move into the cloud on lateral thrust. Weapons, maintain fire on that Dreadnaught."

"Yes sir."

"Captain," said the radar officer. "The Dreadnaught's matching our maneuver."

"Well you all saw I thought of it first," John said.

Everyone turned with incredulous regard.

"A play's a play," John said, shrugging. "If they end up naming it..."

And just then another explosion rocked the deck. The overhead lights flickered out, replaced immediately by emergency lighting over the consoles and wall bases.

"What the hell was that?" John asked.

"The other Dreadnaught sir. They just passed over us and fired on the way into the cloud."

"They're already in there?"

"Yes sir."

"Well let's pick it up."

The visual of the wormhole hazed over with rolling clouds of green-orange gas. As they moved further into the cloud, directional sensors began to lose their resolution.

"Captain," said the coms officer. "We're receiving a microwave transmission."

"Open a channel," John said.

"_Crichton,_" Braca commed. "_We're maintaining a direct link with you. Embedded in this microwave is a data stream. This will give you the tracking information._"

John turned to Tactical. "Convert it to a visual."

Within seconds, a three-dimensional holo-grid appeared above the tactical console.

"_The rectangle represents your vessel. The scattered fixed points are us. Anything that appears as a circle is a break in the Leviathan communication network. The circle's motion is an estimated trajectory. You should be able to use that to find the wake in the gas._"

"Excellent. We'll try not to drop the ball," John said.

"_Good hunting._"

And just then a circle appeared on the grid, running close to the periphery of the network.

"We've got 'em," Simmons said.

"We need to get behind that vessel," John said. "Helm, start maneuvering us to catch their rear."

"Yes sir."

Suddenly, one of the Leviathan points flickered out.

"Braca? What happened to that point?"

"_They've released Strikers!_" Braca yelled. Small blips fanned out over the grid.

"The Corsairs aren't equipped to receive the grid data," John said.

"_The Gunships and Prowlers are. I'm deploying them now. We could use Aeryn, here._"

John sat back in his chair. She was just one pilot. What difference would keeping her grounded make?

Another Leviathan point flickered out. Then small flecks started harrying a point in the center.

"_They've found Galen!_" Braca yelled.

John grabbed his com. "Aeryn. Get to your Prowler."

"_I'm already here,_" she said. "_Ready for launch._"

"You talked to Braca?"

"_Yes. I'm assigned to Galen. The holo-graph schematics are coming up now._"

John nodded to Tactical.

"You're clear for launch, Officer Sun," the tactical officer said.

"Be careful, baby," John said.

"_I'll be right back, John. Go find me some chocolate. Fighting makes me hungry._"

It sickened him to hear her voice and not see her face, but he smiled anyway. "When you get back you'll think it's your birthday."

"_Who knows? It may be._" And at that her Prowler blasted off into the haze.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"This is Prowler-nine approaching Galen," Aeryn commed. "Confirm transponder lock."

"_We see you, Officer Sun,_" said Galen's com officer. "_We've got Denzil and Prowlers-one, -five, and -eight engaging the Strikers. Barely enough to escort a tech-lieutenant. Thank Djancaz-Bru you're here._"

Galen's distant form appeared in the haze, the combating fighters circling all around.

"I see them," Aeryn said. "Prowler-nine engaging."

On her first pass, Aeryn needled a Striker's flank with cannon fire, blowing the cockpit's canopy off. Then she twirled through Galen's trident claw and pulled in behind another, tapping at the controls to center the Striker's engines in her targeting array. She took the shot in the brief microt allowed and blew the vessel apart, grinning with the rush of battle.

"_Two on one pass,_" Braca commed. "_You haven't slowed a bit, Officer Sun._"

She pulled in next to Denzil and joined the gunship on another pass. The two of them fired down on a four-ship Striker formation as it flew a perpendicular trajectory. After blowing the wing off one, Aeryn banked between two of the other Strikers as Denzil smashed the fourth across his bow.

"_You've got two on your tail, Officer Sun,_" Galen's radar officer commed.

Denzil slowed his speed and fell in behind Aeryn, taking the brunt of the Striker's fire. As he slowed further, the Striker's zipped out and around Denzil's mass, passing right across Aeryn's targeting array. She blew the engines off one and crippled the other on a single cannon burst.

Hezmana, it felt good to be shooting things again!

And just then, far ahead at the limits of her vision, a clear mass furled the clouds aside, speeding across the cockpit's horizon like an apparition in the fog.

"_Everyone look out!_" Braca yelled.

Terra-3's enormous hulk shot forth beneath her, thrusters blasting for an intercept course. It was everything she could do to keep from joining the chase.

"_Attention all Prowlers and Gunships!_" Braca announced. "_A second Dreadnaught has entered the net and is engaging the outer Leviathans! Strikers are concentrating there to protect it. Get there at once!_"

A prominent blip appeared on the holo-grid. Aeryn formed in with other Prowlers and Gunships and sped off towards the new attacker. Within a macrot, she saw the Dreadnaught, spraying its cannon fire at the surrounding Leviathans. It was definitely a newer model, larger than its familiar predecessor with additional cannons to match. But it was badly damaged and operating on auxiliary thrusters, the quick bursts nudging it clumsily through the gaseous surround.

"_Attention all Prowlers and Gunships. We've just received some schematic information on the Dreadnaughts from Terra-3's engineers. There's a vital power grid buried deep behind the main rear thrusters. Much of that material's been blasted off from the crippled Dreadnaught, and we may be able to penetrate what's left to reach the grid. Concentrate all fire on the area posted in this visual schematic._"

An image popped up on a screen at the periphery of Aeryn's console, detailing the target point on the Dreadnaught.

"Braca," Aeryn said. "The gunships should focus their fire on that vulnerability. We can concentrate on the Strikers."

"_Agreed. And we've got fifty Corsairs flying in to assist in the engagement. Ten of them of them are bombers. Keep them covered while they take out the cannons._"

"Understood."

Off to her hammond side, Aeryn saw the glistening specks of the Corsair formation coming in on an intercept course. A cluster of modified vessels flew in the middle of the formation, their bellies wider and their wings heavily adorned with loaded missile racks.

"Corsair squadron, this is Prowler-8," Aeryn said. "We're approaching to cover your attack."

"_Roger, Prowler-8. Good timing. We've got incoming bogies._"

A speckled mass appeared on her radar. "Strikers -- I see them. Gunships, maneuver through the Strikers and engage your target. We'll keep them off your flanks."

The gunships formed in close to one another and blasted their cannons at the approaching Strikers, veering to smash into the smaller fighters as they passed through the formation.

"_Delta-wing, engaging target._"

Five of the bombers broke free of the formation and flew towards the Dreadnaught. Aeryn angled in beside them. Within a few microts, one of the bombers took a hit to the engines.

Aeryn darted her head around and saw two Strikers pursuing the formation. She slammed on the reverse thrusters, leaving the Strikers to zip past her. Pulling in behind one, she fired and clipped its wing, but the pilot was quick to evade further damage by twirling out of the attack formation.

The remaining Striker continued its assault on the bombers. Strangely, most of the fire was deflected off the glistening surface, leaving only dark smears. Then, the Striker released two missiles that caught one of the bombers in the rear, blowing it apart.

Aeryn growled her rage, holding the cannon trigger down until the tracers crossed the Striker's aft, sending it spinning out of control.

"_Three reporting for Delta-wing. Nuclear release imminent._"

Two of the Dreadnaught's main cannons loomed ahead, enormous monoliths that recoiled into the hull with each blast. But with the widespread damage, they were the only cannons still functioning on this side. Aeryn smiled with a warrior's pride at the sight of the Dreadnaught's torn, charred hull. Hers was a worthy mate.

As the bombers leveled in on their attack trajectory, the surrounding space lit up with tracer fire from the Dreadnaught's smaller defensive guns. Energy blasts continued to splatter over the Corsair's hulls, doing minimal damage with each impact. But the Dreadnaught soon switched to projectile fire, and ripped one of the bombers apart instantly.

"_Two reporting for Delta-wing. Releasing ordinance. Everyone break away!_"

Aeryn yanked the throttle back and pushed the thrusters to maximum. Within microts, a bright flash ushered in a crashing wave of force that lurched the Prowler forward, slamming her back into the seat.

When she looked at her rear-visual screen, craters marked the places where the two cannons were. And just then, a tremendous explosion blasted from the Dreadnaught's rear, breaking the entire flank apart.

The Gunships had succeeded!

"_Finish off the Strikers!_" Braca commed, laughter in his voice. Celebratory shouts could be heard in the background.

And in the distance she saw Terra-3 chasing down its prey, the Dreadnaught now uncloaked and running on one thruster. It was a beautiful sight.

And just when it couldn't get any better, a white wall of Battle Globes rushed past her, holding their formation right up to the point where they scattered into the doomed Striker fleet, blasting them apart with numbing efficiency. The sight of that slaughter never got old.

She wanted to laugh, scream and cry all at once. An Earth ship and the dwindling Sebacean and Leviathan band had just destroyed the pinnacle of Scarran might. She pictured herself sitting in the Farscape module with Crichton all those cycles ago, teasing him with her scented hair. A human, a sebacean and an Earth vessel. A touch of laughter rocked in her shoulders. No one ever thought of that as a formidable configuration.

Then suddenly, she was slammed into her seat by a crashing force from behind. Her head jerked back and sprang forth again, the snapping motion inflicting a terrible pain in her neck. The space around her spun wildly. Once the G-forces leveled off, she blinked her eyes to gather her shaking sights. She jerked the control stick left to counter the spin, but it was dead in her hands. Something had taken the engines out.

"Braca!" she said. "Something's hit my Prowler. I need assistance."

"_Aeryn!_" Braca answered. "_Your transponder's not broadcasting. Where are you?_"

"I have no frelling idea! I'm in an uncontrolled spin!"

For a brief snatch, she saw the shattered hulk of the Dreadnaught through the clouds, then caught it again and again over the sequence of rapid turns, getting smaller with each pass. Then the space cleared as the gases dissipated.

What she saw next made her stiffen with terror. A shimmering blue curtain appeared in the window, getting closer with each turn. She felt like retching.

"Crichton!"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Aeryn! Where are you?"

"_I'm going into the wormhole! My controls are out!_"

"Hold on, baby. We're coming for you." John glared at the helm officer. "Get us out there!"

Terra-3 accelerated through the debris of the shattered Dreadnaught and burst out of the cloud. Suddenly, everyone gasped at once. The wormhole had grown to enormous proportions and the inner walls were whipping wildly within the funnel.

The helms officer slammed on the reverse thrust.

"What the hell are you doing?" John asked, rushing to the man's side.

"Sir, the gravitational field. It's enormous."

John looked at Simmons. "Shut that thing down."

"I'm already on it."

"Captain," the radar officer said. "Two gunships and a Leviathan just exited the cloud. They're moving towards the wormhole."

"No!" John said. "Get Braca!"

"Yes sir. You're patched in."

"Braca?" John asked.

"_Crichton, Aeryn's falling into the wormhole._"

"I know, but you can't go in there. That gravitational field will pull you in, and there's no way you can navigate that thing. It's the worst I've ever seen. Back off. We're shutting it down."

Simmons rose from the console, wide-eyed and running his fingers through his hair. "Captain, we've lost the wormhole generator. There's nothing on the sensors. No power, no readings. Nothing."

"You're fucking kidding me!" John said, rushing to the console. Everything was dead. The lights, the meters, the gauges. The console might as well have been a display.

"Christ!" John yelled, pounding the console. He raised his head and looked to the forward screen. "Zoom in and find her."

The visual advanced towards the wormhole, then caught the tiny speck superimposed against the thunderous blue walls. Aeryn's Prowler was spinning on its center axis, moving directly for the wormhole's center.

"_Crichton?_"

He scratched at the skin of his neck, gnashing his teeth. "I'm here, baby."

"_I'm going in._"

"We can't shut it down, Aeryn." There was a small chance he could reach her with a grappling ship, but the gravity would take them both in. He pictured Liz, feeling a terrible pain in his heart. She'd just lost her mother. He couldn't do it to her again.

Aeryn's breathing was labored. "_Take care of him._" A trace sob caught in her breath. "_I love you, John._"

John pulled at his hair, hissing his breath through clenched teeth. Then, with an agonizing groan, he leapt from the console and ran for the door. "Ready the grappler for launch!"

"Crichton! That's insane!" Simmons yelled, running after him and grabbing his arm. "You can't fly into that thing!"

John spun and pushed him back. "Get it fucking ready!"

John turned and sprinted down the corridor, running with everything he had. He bypassed the elevator and took the stairs, leaping over the rails at the halfway points for eleven floors. When he reached the bottom, he burst through the door and pushed everyone out of the way, running over those that were knocked to the floor. Within two minutes he reached the launch tube for the nearest rescue grappler.

Techs were rushing to prepare the vessel, but John pushed through them and ran into the cockpit, flipping the power switches in frantic haste.

"Evacuate the tube!" he yelled.

"Captain, the bracing mounts are still attached."

John turned, sneering. "Get the fuck out or you're dead!"

Everyone dropped their tools and ran for the bulkhead door, slamming it behind them.

John ignited the thrusters, pushing them to full power. Emergency lights cycled in the launch tube as automatic charges blew the outer doors off. The whining of twisting metal gave way to the sudden force of launch.

Free, John bolted for the wormhole, blinking the water from his eyes.

"I'm coming, baby."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The radiating disc of the wormhole's mouth flared outward like the bell of a horn, its outer rim spreading across space as the inner passage narrowed. As John approached, the wall of luminescence consumed his visual field, but his eyes never left the vessel plummeting before him. Aeryn's Prowler twirled in a near-perfect flat spin, her trajectory zipping her bottom-side-first towards the wormhole's center. But deep within, the funnel's writhing interior prohibited straight passage. She would be consumed at the first turn.

"Aeryn! Can you see me?"

"_Crichton? Is that you?_"

"Yeah. I'm gonna close in and..."

"_Get the frell out of here, John!_" she screamed. "_You can't catch me in this..._"

_Click_. He turned the radio off.

"And that won't help us," he muttered, wiping the back of his wrist across his sweaty brow.

With further acceleration and some fine maneuvering, he caught up with the Prowler just as they crossed the plane of the wormhole's entrance. He could feel the gravitational force in the controls as it sucked them into the churning depths. With one hand on the control stick, he reached across to the co-pilot's console and activated the grappling arms, extending them out from the sides and into the space before him. He gave the claws a quick test with the thumb-control, opening the clamps and closing them again. But there was a problem. Aeryn's craft was spinning, and the mechanical arms weren't fast enough to snatch the sturdier portions of the Prowler as it twirled about, and reaching out blindly would only bang their ships together and send her spinning off into the walls. He had to eliminate the opposing motion.

John positioned his ship just above the Prowler. In a view screen he could see the dorsal surface of her ship rotating beneath the belly of his craft. He did his best to match their forward velocity and trajectory, then cut the power to the rear thrusters. Free of engine acceleration, they coasted together at an even speed – the Prowler twirling just beneath the Grappler.

Okay. Nose down, ass up. It would be a tricky maneuver, but not impossible. Another day of Corsair ballet – just like the Earth Day space shows. He'd just have to do in an RV what he was used to doing in a Ferrari – and it would have to be done with a passive-flight partner. Two ships, tumbling in apparent chaos but locked together in tandem motion.

John ignited two auxiliary thrusters, one just above the nosecone and the other below the tail, bringing the front down and pushing the rear up. There was a little lateral drift, but he expected it and compensated with side-thrust. Within seconds he was positioned perpendicular to the Prowler, the nosecone's tip just two motras above Aeryn's cockpit. He could see the paleness of her face looking up through the canopy, but she was spinning too fast to read her expression. It was a dizzying sight. Then, in his peripheral vision, he caught a glimpse of the bend ahead, turning at a point where the funnel tapered inward. There wasn't much time.

The clockwise rotation of the Prowler whirled its tail and nose across John's bow like a fan, its speed and closeness making details impossible to discern. John took a deep breath, focused on the center of the Prowler, and tapped at the right bank thrusters. With each successive thruster burst, the Prowler's spinning appeared to slow as his own rotation accelerated to match hers. Then, with a final burst, he matched her speed and looked into her upturned face, steady beneath him.

He turned the radio on.

"I'm clamping down on your fuselage." He extended the metal arms and clamped the claws down on either side of the Prowler's fuselage, squeezing down until he felt the resistance of the reinforced frame beneath the metallic skin.

"Okay, I've gotcha. I'm gonna stop this turning now."

But as he reached for the thruster control, the massive wall swelled beneath them, rushing in like a sudden tide.

"Shit!" he yelled, slamming on the reverse thrusters.

Still spinning with the dangling Prowler, the Grappler shrank back from the approaching wall. It had to be a turn in the wormhole. He needed to regain control, and it had to be fast. As he drew back with reverse thrust, he turned the lateral thrusters on to counter their spin. The jolt of the sudden change in momentum threw him to the right, banging his ribs into the armrest and doubling his body over sideways. And then a loud crack rang out, the high-pitched snap of breaking metal.

He pulled up to the console and looked out. One of the arm joints was snapped in the middle, leaving the Prowler hanging by one arm. The turn's deceleration had been too fast. Now the Prowler was hanging off center. Quickly, he drew the Prowler in, bending the mechanical arm in the middle and tucking the vessel beneath the Grappler's belly. It would have to hold. Then, he tapped the lateral thrusters again to slow the spinning, this time in spaced increments, all the while maintaining reverse thrust to pull away from the wall. Lost in vertigo, he teetered on the edge of panic.

_Please god don't let it swallow us._

The moments passed as John brought their spinning to a halt. But he barely had a second to get his bearings before a sharp turn appeared ahead. Quickly, he banked into the turn and pulled out of it as the funnel straightened, barely missing the opposite wall. It was chaos, and the defile was narrowing more and more.

_Think around the corner. You know what's next._

He took a deep breath and relaxed his eyes. The swirling patterns of the adjacent walls blurred in his peripheral vision. In his mind, he searched for that silent place where psychic math wrestled with the equation of infinite variables. All he needed were small predictions. See the funnel, know how it will twist.

Then it clicked.

He pulled the stick back just before the passage turned upward, then banked right to twirl through a descending corkscrew. With each sudden twist, his body reacted, holding their position within the passage's center. After nearly a minute of sharp maneuvering, he shot out into a gaseous surround. He was thrown forward when his ship met the sudden friction of a yellowish atmosphere. The wormhole had terminated in the sky of a gas giant.

Wingless, John felt himself plummeting towards the planet's surface. But the Grappler was built to tug enormous loads and had powerful engines. He adjusted his pitch, pointed the nose to the darkness of space above, and gradually increased power to the rear thrusters. Once on his way out of the stratosphere, he glanced at the view-screen of the Grappler's belly. The Prowler was still clamped there. Given all the jarring that occurred, it was nothing less than a miracle.

"Aeryn?" he rasped, short of breath.

No answer.

"Aeryn? Baby? Answer me, please."

Nothing.

Panic threatened. What if he'd banged her cockpit into the Grappler's hull? Was her suit pressurized? Had the violent turbulence broken her visor?

He raced away from the planet, reaching a high-enough velocity to ensure their escape from its gravity. Once on an outbound trajectory, he pulled himself across to the co-pilot's seat, legs floating in the zero-gravity environment. He strapped himself into the seat, took the controls for the grappling arm and maneuvered the Prowler from beneath the Grappler's hull and out into the space before him.

He was met by the sight of her looking back. The relief sent a shot of warmth through his viscera. Nose to nose their vessels drifted as they gazed at one another across the sliver of space. He leaned in, bent at the waist with hands spread over the console, feeling a sudden sense of familiarity.

He and Aeryn, two ships, and a buffer of space between them.

_We're in the hands of fate now._

Aeryn opened her hand against the cockpit window.

_We have to trust in that._

"Not this time," he grumbled, snatching the controls of the grappler arm.

He began the maneuvering process to position the Prowler against an airlock tube at the Grappler's aft. Taking his cue, Aeryn rushed to unfasten her safety harness.

After a couple of minutes of delicate positioning, the Prowler was tucked in as close as it could come. Then, in one of the console's view screens, he saw Aeryn pulling herself from the Prowler's cockpit and into the Grappler's airlock shaft. Once she was inside, he pressurized the chamber and opened the airlock's inner hatch. Then, releasing his own seat harness, he pulled himself back through the pilot's cabin and opened the door to the crude living quarters. There, on the other side of the chamber, Aeryn emerged from a portal in the floor, her helmet already cast off and pressure suit half unfastened. With eyes locked, they pulled towards each other, John past a stack of bunks and Aeryn over a small table. Then, in the middle of the room, they grasped one another's hands and pulled together, lining up vertically as they looked into one another's faces. John palmed her face between his hands and took in the sight of her, awed by the power of his feelings. Yes. This was it. The love he felt so long ago -- the overwhelming sense of belongingness.

Aeryn pulled his face to hers and kissed him gruffly, casting delicacies aside in her own need for him. His hands found the remaining clasps on her suit and peeled away the layers and components between them. Aeryn pulled his shirt over his head and kissed him again as she cast the garment aside.

Once they were undressed, John pulled them into a recessed bunk and lowered the drift-barrier over the bed's outer edge. Then, snaking his arm around her waist, he drew her weightless body against his, marveling at the feel of her bare skin. He slowed their kissing, taking time to explore the warm velvet of her mouth. She moaned against his lips and tucked into him, her chest and hips rippling against his midriff in slow waves as the arch of her foot rubbed down his leg and back up again. And then, without effort or pause, their lovemaking began. With a small turn he laid her beneath him and looked down on her pale countenance and perfect features. He would remember everything about this moment for the rest of his life, even if it amounted to the three days of air they had left. They held each other closely, moving together and sharing their rising pleasure in a shroud of affection, hardly looking away from one another's eyes.

Then, just as they finished, John looked down at her again to recapture that majestic sight – her beautiful face nestled in swimming jet hair.

And with eyes glistening, she whispered a single utterance.

"Stay with me, John."

He froze at those words. No proposal on Earth was ever delivered so beautifully. _Stay with me_. Yes. I do. I accept.

He pulled her face to his, kissed her once then touched his forehead to hers. His mate -- for the rest of days.

"Always," he said.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wrapped in a blanket, Aeryn pulled herself into the Grappler's cockpit, careful not to disturb John's slumber. She settled into the pilot's seat and strapped the lap belt across her legs. The controls were strangely familiar, many of the gauges and switch-arrays bearing a striking similarity to the ones in John's old module. Where was that thing anyway? She'd have to ask when he woke.

She found the radar and communications array. Strangely, they were switched off. She turned a knob on the radio, switching its audio feed from the main speakers to the headphones hanging above. Then, holding one of the ear cups to her head, she turned the radio on and set the channel selector for automated scan. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too long before Terra-3 and the Leviathan fleet arrived.

A sudden bump brought her attention to the rear. In the chamber beyond the cockpit's open door, John emerged from the bunk, still cocooned in the insulated pouch they'd slept in. The 'sleeping bag'. She turned back to the console and muttered the words in English a few times while watching the numbers cycle on the channel scanner.

"Sleeping bag...sleeping...sle-e-e-e-p..."

In the rear cabin, John banged around through a locker, muttering something about the poor arrangement of its contents.

"Coffee, coffee, coffee...," he kept saying, then a sudden, "yes!"

After more loud fumbling, John pulled himself into the cockpit with one arm while clamping the sleeping bag at his waist with the other hand. As he settled into the co-pilot's seat, he flared his eyebrows at her with two liquid pouches clamped in his front teeth.

"That's not coffee is it?" she asked.

"Not this one," he said, handing her one of the pouches. "It's juice for you, your highness."

She scowled. "I don't know how you drink that dren."

"It ain't for the taste. I'm in it for the boost. And if I don't get my coffee in the morning..."

"Yes yes, you'll talk about it until second meal -- sometimes third. I remember."

"Actually, I was gonna say I get downright nasty. Be afraid," he said, raising his hands with claw-like fingers.

Aeryn shook her head and pierced the aluminum pouch with the attached straw and sucked in the juice. It had a strange, sweet flavor, somewhat tart but tasty nonetheless.

"Is this from your 'nabana' plant?" she asked.

"It's 'banana' actually – and no, that's orange juice."

"'O-ran-nge'. It's good." She looked at him and took another sip, her smile turning up at the corners of her mouth as she sucked through the straw.

He leaned in, grinning. "Oh, now that's just too cute. I'm gonna have to take this blanket away, young lady," he said, tugging at her covers.

She swatted his hands back and grabbed the floating headphones. "Why are the communications and radar turned off?"

John shrank back to his seat. "Just tryin' to save a little power."

"What if your ship shows up somewhere other than here? Shouldn't we be listening for them?"

He looked impassively through window. "Have you heard anything?"

"No. But there's no way to know if they've tried to contact us before now."

"They didn't."

"How do you know?"

His chest rose and fell with a single, deep breath. "Chances are, they're not coming."

It didn't make sense. "Why not? Don't they know where the wormhole ended?"

"Yes, but the generator was damaged in the fight. And even if they can restore basic function enough to open another funnel, they won't be able to navigate it until the stabilizing magnets are recalibrated in the computer."

"And why is that a complication?"

"Because it takes weeks and the opening of several wormholes to get a representative dataset. The only alternative is to stabilize the funnel manually."

"Why can't they do it manually, then?"

He tapped his temple. "It requires a bit of that wormhole magic."

"That dren in your head?"

"Yep, 'fraid so." He looked away through the window.

"But others have gone through them before."

"Yeah, in small craft. And they were lucky. This guy included," he said, pressing his thumb to his chest.

"What about the Scarrans? They brought three Dreadnaughts through to Earth."

"'Cause we were holdin' the door open for them."

Aeryn lowered the juice pouch to her lap. "Then there's nothing that can be done."

"Not short of a miracle."

"And you knew all this before you came," she stated flatly.

He kept looking out the window, saying nothing.

"You shouldn't have come after me, John." Her tone was sharp.

He stuffed his arms together and tightened his mouth. "Yeah, well, I made a choice, Aeryn."

"You know I'm right. They're stranded now in the Uncharted Territories without you and your wormhole knowledge, battered and cut-off from their home world. How long do you think they can last against the entire Scarran fleet?"

"They won't have to make it long," he answered.

"Why not?"

"There's a check-in scheduled for five days from now. If Terra-3 doesn't contact Earth, they'll recall Terra-4 and the Ancient mothership and come searching."

"Recall them from what? They should've been assisting you [ithis whole time[/i. Cholak!" she said, flopping back into the seat. "Who's making the decisions on your frelling planet?"

"Aeryn, it's not that simple."

"What do you mean it's not that simple? You were attacked in your own space and you respond with only a fraction of your might? What could be more important than dealing with your attackers?"

He paused for a moment. "Getting ready."

She huffed. "For what, John?"

"For something much worse than Scarrans – or anything else I could've imagined, for that matter."

His quiet, level tone unsettled her. There was introspection in those words, dark thoughts lurking behind his blank stare. She drew the blanket tight around her shoulders.

"What are you talking about, John?"

He paused for a moment. "It's obvious the Ancients are _real_ powerful. Right?"

She nodded.

"So powerful, in fact, they could flush a whole planet into a black hole simply by connecting the two with a wormhole. Hell, they could even destroy stars that way."

"Yes, John. They're very powerful. I get it."

"Good," he said, slanting his back across the chair. "Because I want you to imagine something that could take a civilization like that and reduce it to a single hive on a single ship."

She took a moment to consider it. A race able to destroy whole planets faced extinction at the hands of this implied enemy. And it was coming here?

"The Ancients are fleeing this threat?" she asked.

"Yes."

"And you brought them to Earth?"

He nodded and raised his hand. "I know what you're thinking."

"I hope so," she said, eyes wide. "Because it seems like an obvious concern."

"We know, believe me. Whole sessions of Congress can testify to that. But with Scarrans and Scorpius and all the lions and tigers and bears out there, an invasion was imminent anyway. Besides, this enemy doesn't know the Ancients are on Earth. Technically, they don't even know which galaxy."

"Galaxy?" Aeryn asked, straightening up. "Where the frell are the Ancients from?"

"M31. Andromeda."

Andromeda. That was an Earth name for the nearest spiral galaxy. She remembered it from their long talks on the terrace. It was one of the few cosmic things they could share a mutual wonder about in those early days.

"So its nearness makes our galaxy the most likely place they'll look first," she said.

He nodded. "_If_ they make it here."

She furrowed her brow. What did that mean?

"Getting from Andromeda to the Milky Way was no easy task," he continued. "Of the two dozen or so Ancient ships that set out, only one made it, and it came in on fumes. It took 'em five generations of coasting after the last wormhole to reach the Milky Way's edge."

"Cholak," she muttered. Such a fight for survival. All of a sudden, she felt a slight connection to them.

"So our thinking is, when the bad guys come, they'll be most vulnerable when they arrive. With that in mind, we've been building a defensive post at the galaxy's outer edge -- facing Andromeda. That's where Terra-4 and the mothership were when the Scarrans attacked."

"You don't have to do this alone, you know," she said. "The Luxans, the Nebari, _us_ – we should all work together on this."

"We've thought about that, but decided it wasn't a good idea."

"Why not?"

He crossed his arms. "Wormholes. You've seen how it works out here. As long as the other kids know we've got 'em, they'll do everything they can to get their hands on our toys. We're better of alone."

"Back to your xenophobic ways then?"

He fixed her in his glare. "Tell me I'm wrong."

How could she? Almost every source of his misery in their days together rose from wormhole greed. But there was something about the way he held that power, keeping it exclusive. It was unnerving. She raised her chin a little, narrowing her eyes in cool regard.

"You used to tell me that all your people wanted was to know if there were others out here, and to maybe join a greater community one day."

He looked away.

"And when you first told me that, I thought you were an idiot."

She saw the beginnings of a smile in the creases of his eyes.

"But now, it pains me to see that feeling's lost in you." She reached out with her foot and nudged his knee. "Look at me."

He turned his face to her.

"Do you know what I used to tell Jack as a child – when it would get bad?"

His eyes focused on her, alert and attentive.

"I told him there was a place where people weren't hurting each other all the time. Where strangers met one another with smiles and handshakes – and space wasn't a killing ground, but a place of wonder."

The muscles of his face softened.

"And I would show him your faint little star, and tell him he was special because he was from that place." She paused for a moment. "You can't imagine how much strength he drew from that."

She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, recalling the most horrific memory of her life. And as she described it to John, she paused several times to collect herself. It started with her and Braca, himself barely conscious from the wound on his face. The two of them were pinned face down by Scarrans against a dirty wooden table, caught on a primitive planet with a small group. And there was Jack, a young adolescent, kneeling at the end of a row of dead sebaceans, his face cast down before a Scarran commander. She and Braca held their tongues, keeping the transponder codes used by the forming Leviathan band secret as comrade after comrade died under heat torture. But when the sneering commander got to Jack, she begged for his life, finally telling him everything he wanted to know.

But still he raised his hand over Jack's head and struck him with the shimmering violence. She screamed and struggled beneath those arms of impossible strength, and through watery eyes watched Jack crumple to the floor, his face contorted in pain. But just as the Scarran commander looked over to gloat, she saw the most heartening thing of her life. There before that brutal killer, her Jack rose to his feet under the shimmering heat. And with eyes caged forward and teeth gritting against the pain, he stood before the Scarran commander and took the torture with his shoulders up and back straight.

She'd never seen such alarm in a group of Scarrans, screaming their curses at this Sebacean who refused to collapse under their torture. Then, under direction from their commander, one of the Scarrans pinning Aeryn ran to a hearth and grabbed a pot of boiling water. Jack was thrown face down on the table across from her, his arm twisted behind him, then doused over his back with the searing fluid.

His screaming was the last thing she remembered with any clarity, the rest of it a haze of rage as she killed four Scarrans with a swiped blaster and whatever else she could get her hands on.

It was impossible not to cry. Every time she spent more than a microt recalling the event, it crumbled her to her bases. When she looked up at John, he was sitting sideways in the seat, his back tucked against the wall as if to draw back from something horrid. The look in his face was one of shock, grief and rage. Her eyes fell to the crinkling sound of his drinking pouch, crumpled in his clenched fist.

Sniffling, she said, "he didn't speak much for a few days after that. And we've never talked about what went through his mind during that time. But whenever the terrace was positioned right, he would sit there for hours and look at your star."

John stared back, his mouth open as if to speak, but without utterance. Then, shaking his head, he grasped for words and spoke in a mournful tone.

"Aeryn…I should've come back sooner. I don't know why…I just…"

"Shhh," she said, leaning in to touch his hand. "There'll never be blame for that. I only want you to remember that planet and the people I told him about – with all its handshakes and dreams. You have no idea what power such a thing can have on those who've almost lost hope."

John nodded, squeezing her hand. "Hope."

"Yes," she said. "I've held onto it, and it's seen me through to now."

He looked back with a slack expression of wonder. "Come 'ere," he said, leaning in and unclasping her seat belt. He pulled her across his armrest and into his lap, hugged her tightly and tucked his face into the crook of her neck.

"I'm just...amazed at you."

She smiled, her cheek pressed against his crown. "Good. You should be."

"We're gonna die here. You know that?"

"I figured as much."

He pulled back and looked into her face. "Anything crazy you wanted to do before it's over?"

She roughed her fingers through his hair. "Maybe. After I drink some more juice, we can go back to bed and see what happens."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John woke up on his right side with his face in Aeryn's hair. His arm was tucked beneath hers, falling over her ribs and across her chest, her back nestled against his midriff. The cabin was dark with the exception of some dim light flickering from the cockpit's console.

The back of his hand rested in Aeryn's. He could feel the coolness of her palm on his knuckles. Three days had passed, much of it spent in this bed -- talking, loving, and a little bit of wishing. A few hours back, the oxygen supply hit the red zone. Knowing they'd be retrieved eventually, they wrote letters for Jack and Liz, telling them everything that came to mind in pages and pages of rambling emotion. And within Liz's note, John wrapped his wedding ring, telling her to keep it as a symbol of their family's happy years together. He also wrote a note to DK, thanking him for a lifetime of friendship, but also to pass on an important charge – to see that Jack was brought to Earth, and to do everything he could for the Sebacean and Leviathan band, even if it meant taking them to a remote part of the galaxy, far from Scarran reach.

And after a final meal they got back in the bed, ready to take their final rest together. They made love one more time, then looked at each other in silence until they fell asleep.

He didn't expect to wake again.

But when he did, Aeryn was sleeping soundly against him, her breathing deep and steady. The cabin was quiet, the hush of the air-cycler no longer coming through the vents. The oxygen tanks were empty. Whatever oxygen was left rested in the still air.

Gently, John drew Aeryn's wisping hair away from her face and looked across the delicate line of her cheekbone, following it down to the fanning tips of her dark lashes. She looked so soft and feminine sleeping there, belying the image of that tough, detached soldier he once knew. He thought about her life these past years without him, this warrior that once sought combat for solace.

She was changed. Her need for a soldier's life had been sated, then overindulged and ultimately forced down her throat through years of being hunted to near-extinction. And the suffering she bore witness to – the torture of her own son – what protocol did a soldier have to fall back on for that? No, it wasn't a soldier that killed four Scarrans that day. It was a mother. Duty, service, honor – they were all shades of the past. This woman was driven by love more than anything else, and she was both deadlier and more beautiful than ever because of it.

Suddenly, Aeryn shifted beneath his arm and turned her face sidelong as she stretched against him.

"Shhh," John said. "Go back to sleep."

She blinked her eyes, groaning. "How long has it been?"

"About two hours."

She looked across the cabin, her sights settling on the now-quiet vents.

"No more air," she muttered.

"No, 'fraid not."

She turned over beneath his arm and faced him. They exchanged quiet looks for a minute before she spoke.

"I'm tired."

He was beginning to feel it, too. Light-headed and fuzzy-eyed. "I know. It's okay. At least we're warm."

Her lids drooped down. "Warm," she muttered, then closed her eyes.

His body wanted to breathe faster, but he held the pace back. There was no air to be had and no point in fighting for it. Resigned, he just stared at her face, so still and peaceful.

"I love you," he whispered.

And just then the cabin lit up in a brilliant blue. The shimmering luminescence danced over her pale features like sunlight through a clear lagoon. She was so beautiful in the soft light.

Content, he watched the heavenly display until darkness took him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Voices.

"She's struggling!"

"Ms. Sun! Calm down and breathe. Okay?"

"Ow! God bless! Somebody get her restrained!"

John opened his eyes to a ring of faces superimposed over a bright light high above. There was something covering his nose and mouth. A cup. Air. It was oxygen. He blinked with sudden awareness. They were alive. Holy shit! They were alive! He looked to either side and saw Aeryn struggling to his left, pinned to a stretcher by several med techs. But after a few seconds, she calmed down, taking deep breaths as she looked over the surroundings.

"Let her go," John said, pulling his mask away. "She's okay now."

A man looked back with a red, blinking eye. "Sorry, sir. We can't do that."

"Trust me, son. If she wanted to get away, she could. Now get off her."

The med techs eyed each other for a moment, then released Aeryn's arms and legs and scuttled back from the stretcher.

She looked around, the heaving of her chest slowing beneath the sheet. When she turned her head and saw him, she looked confused for a second, then smiled weakly with the oxygen mask askew on her cheekbone.

John reached his hand out to her, stretching his arm as far as he could.

She reached across to him. They could just curl their fingertips together. Slowly, they pulled towards one another, rolling their stretchers inward until they _clanked_ together, side-by-side.

"Ya'll move it now," came a gruff voice through the crowd. "Get out of the way."

Tom Sturgeon pushed through the crowd of techs. His stethoscope swung loosely over his chest, hooked haphazardly to his collar by a single ear-bud.

"Holy Christ, John! You're a lucky son-of-a-bitch."

"Yeah," John said, grinning back. "We were cashin' it in, there."

Tom stood at the foot-ends of their stretchers, smiling at Aeryn. "Ms. Sun, I'm Tom, the ship's chief physician and Dr. Crichton's poker superior."

"Hello, Tom," Aeryn answered. "Do we shake hands now?"

"That'd be the human thing to do," John said.

Tom reached out and shook Aeryn's hand. "You guys don't know the half of it. It's gonna be one hell of a debriefing. Come on, let's get you out of this hangar and into some clothes."

John lifted the sheet at his chest and looked down, flaring his brows. "Yep. In the buff."

As the techs rolled them towards a corridor, John turned on his side and lifted up on his elbow, shouting back to the crew tending the Grappler. "Give that one a thorough steam-cleaning, boys. Nobody's gonna wanna sit on any surface in there 'til you do."

"And don't touch my Prowler!" Aeryn yelled.

They rolled through the corridors as guards at their fore urged the growing crowd to move back. John looked at the faces pressing in from doors and adjacent halls, giving them grins and thumbs-up. And then, scattered through the crowd, he began to notice more and more Sebaceans, marked by their unique clothing and uniforms. Aeryn was also noticing.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Don't know," John answered. "Must've thrown a mixer while we were gone."

Tom looked back with a sidelong grin.

"What're all these Sebaceans doing here, Tom?" John asked.

He shrugged. "Don't know what you're talkin' about. All I see is people."

Aeryn leaned in and whispered, "is he drunk?"

"Probably," John said. "That doesn't explain any of this, though."

A right turn brought them through a damaged corridor and into a vast room containing one of the key components to the wormhole generator. Suddenly, they both sat up in amazement at the sight before him, Aeryn cinching the sheet at her chest. The generator was heavily adorned with golden cables and machine components of hallmark Leviathan design. Humans and Sebaceans scurried all about, passing tools back and forth to one another in their busied maintenance of the clunky, hybridized machinery.

"Oh my god," John said, staring up at the massive sight. "That's gotta be half a Leviathan."

"Dad!"

Liz crawled out from under a nearby duct and ran to him, throwing herself across the stretcher and knocking him flat against it. She hugged his neck so tight he felt his eyes could burst.

"You asshole asshole asshole!" She pulled away and looked into his face, her grimy cheeks etched by tears. "Don't you ever do something like that again without me!" She grabbed him in another hug. "Why are you so bad all the time?"

John wrapped her in his arms. "I'm know, hon. I know. I'm sorry."

Liz sat up and reached for Aeryn's hand. "I just told him you were alive."

"Jack?" she asked.

She nodded with lips pressed tightly in a prideful smile. She flashed her eyes towards the hybridized machinery. "He hasn't slept a minute this whole time. We've been on this job non-stop."

John looked up to the machinery's vaulted heights. "This...thing. How?"

She followed his eyes. "The Sebaceans knew some things. We knew other stuff. When we got together, ideas flowed and we all went at it."

Tom threw a sack of clothes into John's lap. "You guys get dressed."

As the med techs rolled them into a room, Aeryn looked back. "Where's Jack?"

"He's on the bridge," Tom and Liz said at once as the door closed.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aeryn was on the last button of her shirt while John was still hopping around with one leg in his pants.

"The bridge?" he asked. "What's he doing? Installing a clamshell?"

Aeryn grabbed John's shirt from a table and threw it at him. "Hurry up," she said, turning to a mirror to adjust her gig-line.

"Hold your horses, mom. I'm coming."

When they emerged from the chamber, the crowd was moving towards an enormous display built into the wall above a large corridor. The view was from atop Terra-3's apex, near the aft, looking forward over the anterior portion of the ship. Stars passed laterally over the bow as the ship turned to its hammond side. Then, beginning with a shimmering edge, a wormhole moved into the center view. When the bow lined up with the funnel, they started moving towards its center.

A deep voice boomed through the speakers above.

"_We're reentering the wormhole. Take your stations._"

John walked up behind Tom and Liz, stuffing his shirttails into his pants. "How'd you guys calibrate the magnets so fast?"

They looked at each other, exchanging furtive glances.

"We didn't," Liz said.

"What? You guys came through that tunnel in this big-ass thing without stabilization? And we're going back in it? Uh-uh, no way. Com the bridge and tell those idiots to wait for me to do it manually. Come on, Aeryn," he said, running off.

They pushed through the crowd as they ran through several corridors. After a couple of minutes, they arrived at some kind of priority elevator, "a straight shot to the bridge deck," John said as they got on.

"I can't believe they did that," John said, panting. "One bad turn or a tall wave in the wall…"

"So you'll work these magnets yourself? That's part of the…?" she asked, tapping a finger to her head.

"Yeah."

She crossed her arms. "Not that I'm condoning it, but wouldn't it have been a good idea to give this ability to more than one human, given that you're building a fleet of these ships?"

John chuckled. "Baby, you should'a been there when they tried to put squares on the first wagon axle. Might'a saved us a hundred years."

"So you want something broken then, Dr. Crichton?" she asked, stepping in and cracking her knuckles. She twisted the front of his shirt in her fist and walked him back against the wall. The light impact rang out through the elevator's metallic casing.

"It's complicated," he said, grinning.

"So I'm a frellwit, then?" she asked, twisting his shirt tighter with the other hand.

"No, that's not what I said." He grasped her lower back and tried to kiss her dodging face.

"Answer my question, John."

"Alright, alright. Truth is, I don't fully understand it. There's only a handful of 'em that could ever pass on mental constructs to others, and the one who found me was one of only five in this bunch."

"And he's dead now," she added, sneering at the bitter remembrance of Furlow. "Then what about the other four?"

"They've been forbidden from interacting with us."

"Why?"

"Partly because of what was done to me, but ultimately because they threatened to do it to others."

When the elevator doors opened, they exited and walked briskly down the corridor.

"That makes no sense, Crichton. That Ancient's actions led them to Earth."

"I know. But these mental games – they were at the heart of their war back home. And somehow they represent the greatest risk of being found again."

Just then, they passed another view screen, this one clearly showing Terra-3 entering the wormhole.

"No no no!" John said, starting off in a run. "What the hell are they doing?"

Aeryn followed him around a few more corners. They came to a final corridor and ran past some guards. At the hall's end, the door opened before them.

Their running brought them several paces into the bridge chamber before they halted. As they stood before everyone on the highest tier, faces all around turned their way, many standing up and smiling. There were even Sebaceans present, monitoring a few portable towers of Leviathan equipment. But none of them was Jack.

Standing beside the high back of the Captain's chair, Commander Simmons turned and smiled.

"You may have to get up a little earlier, Captain. Your job's not so secure any more."

John and Aeryn padded forth towards the chair, approaching it from either side. Then, as they passed the wingbacks, they saw Jack sitting there, his face alight and eyes focused on the bright fractals dancing on the view screen before him. They knelt on either side of him, just within his peripheral vision.

Aeryn moved to touch his arm, but stopped her hand just above his sleeve.

He smiled when they knelt, his eyes caged forward on the screen. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"Jack," she murmured, a hint of distress in her tone. "It's in your head."

"It's okay," he answered. "It feels fine. And it's not that hard, really. You just relax your eyes…"

"And let it take you," John said in a hushed tone. He looked to the forward display, showing the funnel's spreading interior. "You're doing great, son. I couldn't have pushed it out further myself."

But Aeryn could only think of the grim possibilities as she watched Jack's concentrating face.

"They'll come for him, John," she said. "If they ever find out, he'll be a target."

Simmons stepped in behind John's kneeling form, crossing his arms. "Well whoever 'they' are, they'll have to get through me first."

"And me," another man said, standing up.

"Me, too."

"Yeah, and they better bring friends."

Raucous pledges rang out across the bridge. Everyone, human and sebacean alike, muttered their intent to protect Jack, standing tall with their promises. Aeryn looked across their faces, this blended band of two species, mirroring one another in almost every way. The way they stood together, shoulders close as they crowded in around them -- it was impossible to see their differences without the uniforms.

John seemed just as amazed at the display. He rose to his feet and looked over the gathering faces.

And just then, Tom and Liz pushed through the crowded ring as the shimmering light from the wormhole gave way to the fluorescent luminescence of the bridge's normal lighting. Jack stood from his seat after the console rolled back, and stepped to Aeryn. He was filthy and listing from exhaustion, but took no time in crushing her in his arms. Aeryn pulled him as close as she could, gripping the fabric of his shirt in her fists.

Jack looked at John. "Thank-you," he said, his voice choking with gratitude and emotion.

Tom looked around at everyone, holding his arms out. "Fitting reunion for a family, don't you think?"

"Yeah!"

"Hear, hear!"

Applause and shouts rang out across the bridge.

Tom smiled at John and Aeryn. Then, peering furtively around for a moment, he drew a flask from inside his lab coat and raised it high, yelling, "and a fitting reunion for a people!"

The screams and applause were near deafening. When Aeryn looked at John, Liz was hugging him tight and saying something into his ear. Then Jack pulled on her sleeve.

"You remember that survey from Earth? With the extinct animals and early humans?"

Aeryn nodded.

"It was taken by a species from a planet called Arnesk thousands of cycles ago," Jack said. "They brought a few things back with them."

Earth things. All the way out here in the uncharted territories? Amazing. For a moment she tried to connect some familiar things to Earth, but then it came to her in a moment of startling clarity.

"Humans!" she said.

"Brought out here by a species called the Eidelons and cultivated into us." He stood up straight, grinning as he touched his fingertips to his chest. "We're them! They're us!"

Aeryn grabbed Jack's arm and looked over the faces again, her eyes wide and mouth agape. Yes. It all made sense. The appearances. The breeding compatibility.

The bond.

She smiled in awed amazement. And just then her eyes found John's, his look equally astonished. When Liz finished speaking in his ear, she wrapped her arms around John's midriff and smiled at Aeryn with a brilliance that flared in her blue eyes.

John's shoulders rocked in short bursts of astonished laughter, his head shaking in overt amazement. Aeryn walked into his open arm and hugged the two of them in a single embrace.

"I can't believe it," John said. "I just can't believe it."

"I can," Liz said.

John leaned in and kissed Aeryn, hugging her tight in his arm. They touched their heads together, smiling through whispered words of love. The feeling was frelling amazing. Aeryn knew right then and there, it would never be this good again.

Then John looked up, his eyes filled with joyous pride. Standing there at the crowd's center was their Jack, tall amongst the people as everyone moved in to grab a shoulder or shake his hand. Aeryn saw her own feelings reflected in their faces -- joy and awe at this living example of a new beginning.

"All right, Jack," Simmons called as he walked to a console. "We've got one more hole to make. And it'll have to be a big one if we're gonna drag all these Leviathans through."

Jack rubbed his face and walked back to the chair, people patting his back along the way. "All right. Let's do it."

"Where're we going?" John asked.

"Home, Captain," Simmons said. "We managed to open a little twizzler yesterday and got a signal through to Earth. We got our orders back just before we came for you."

"What were they?"

"Retrieve your delinquent ass and bring everyone home ASAP."

"Everyone?" John asked.

"Yes, sir," Simmons said. "Everyone. Leviathans and all."

Aeryn stood with her back to John, draped in his arm and staring across the bridge as it lit up in the glow of a new wormhole. Barely two weekens ago, she and Jack were scrambling for derillium on a desert planet, drinking rusty water and hiding from everything. And now they stood on the doorstep to Earth, seeing it like never before. How strange it felt to know that what she once thought of as John's backwards little planet was actually a part of her all this time, long before she ever set her sights on him.

"The universe is a strange place," she said.

"Yeah," John replied. "I've been tellin' everyone that since the day we met."

And just then, the last turn in the wormhole passed as Earth's glowing blue orb came into view, flecked across its surface with puffs of brilliant white. Several sebaceans padded forth towards the display, their eyes wide before the sight of it, this home both old and new.

And in between the clouds Aeryn saw Florida, and to the left of it Mexico. And she suddenly realized she'd uttered the words aloud when John laughed behind her.

"That's pretty good, baby. We're gonna have to work on that accent, though."

Yes. There would be much to learn but plenty to love. For everyone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Epilogue**

She ran down the darkened corridors as fast as she could, ducking under unmovable debris left hanging from battles fought cycles ago. The alarms rang out loud through the scattered network of horns that still functioned.

From a corridor to her right, a man ran up beside her.

"Chatto. We've lost another power relay," he said as they rushed forth. "Has he cleared us to shut it down?"

"Not yet," she said. "Something's different this time. There's no fluctuation in the energy transfer."

"Do you think…?"

"I don't know."

As they made their way to the Command deck, others fell in beside them, all rushing for the Command Carrier's observation hall. Utterances were traded – words of hope met with pessimistic rebukes.

They emerged into a vaulted chamber, bordered on the far side by a wide, semi-circular stair base ascending to an enormous window. And there, outside the window, a monstrous funnel swirled in the darkness of space. And atop the stairs, a lone figure in black leather stood before the funnel, one foot resting a step higher than the other.

As the growing crowd approached, the leather-clad man turned and looked over the throng, holding a hand out to the wormhole.

"You see?" he yelled. "All of you who refused to believe? I promised you deliverance! And here, at the edge of nowhere, I have fulfilled my oath!" He turned to the wormhole and walked towards the window with hands held high.

"My sebacean brethren! _This_ is why we'll never run again!"

Fists shot into the air with shouts of praise.

"Scorpius!"


End file.
